


The Music In You

by Kimmimaru



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blood, Dangerous Situations, I don't spell Yuri with two 'u's' sorry, Ice Skating, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Phichit being a social media nut, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Romance, Stalking, The taking and subsequent distribution of (non consenting) images of a naked minor, Yuri plisetsky is known as Yurio, Yuuri is hiding stuff from Victor to protect him, maybe future smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8940778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmimaru/pseuds/Kimmimaru
Summary: A few weeks before a competition in Russia, Yuri is besieged by vicious messages on social media. In an attempt to protect Victor and make sure he's not worried Yuri hides the increasingly threatening messages. Meanwhile Yakov works closely with the police to find this man before he can harm Victor again, however that proves harder than he thought. Victor's captivation with Yuri's music is blinkering him to the dangers of his obsessed fan as his past seeps from the shadows to come back to haunt him.





	1. Chapter 1

Shh, shh, thuck. Shh, shh, thuck.

The ice sang beneath his skates, the blades cutting patterns into its surface like the work of a master artist. The rink was quiet, it was already late and most other skaters were likely resting back at their hotels. 

Shh, shh, shh.

Yuri turned in a quarter circle, looking up at the empty stands. Tomorrow they would be filled with excited spectators, all screaming and cheering for their favourite skaters. Tomorrow the entire stadium would be packed with sweating bodies, a thousand hearts all beating in tune to the music. Yuri sighed, lowering his gaze again.

Shh, shh.

The quiet surrounded him, a thick, muffling blanket that comforted his nerves. He lifted his arms, spreading his fingers; eyes closing as a soft melody escaped the buds in his ears. Hear the music, feel the music. 

Shh, shh, thuck.

He leapt, spinning into the air. Already he knew, even before he landed, that he’d messed up. He landed with a thud, skidding a little way across the slippery ice until he came to a halt on his side. He sucked in a lungful of air, pushing himself onto his back with a groan. He pulled out his headphones in time to hear a soft ‘tut’, he sat up, still panting to see a tall figure standing at the edge of the rink.

“That was sloppy, Yuri.”

Yuri shook his head, climbing unsteadily to his feet. “Victor? I thought you were at the hotel.”

Victor offered him a smile, “I can’t sleep when you’re not there, you know that.”

“I was practicing-”

“Even the best athletes need to sleep, come on; come back with me.” Victor held out a tantalising hand, Yuri knew how that skin felt, soft and warm and welcoming.  
Yuri was halfway across the ice before he had realised what he was he was doing, he sent a half-hearted glare at Victor as if it was his fault he couldn’t resist him. “I need to practice, if I don’t get this down-”

“Yuri.” Victor’s voice hardened just a little and their eyes met across the few feet of space between them. The few lights that were on sparkled and glistened on the ice at Yuri’s feet, creating the illusion of a still lake in winter. Outside a sudden gust of wind rattled the building; Yuri shivered a little, suddenly feeling the cold from having stood still so long. “You’ll have time to practice tomorrow before the competition; don’t put yourself at risk like this.” Finally Yuri gave in, with a sigh he closed the gap between himself and his coach smoothly.

Shhhhhh.

Victor took his hand and pulled him back onto firm ground, he dropped to his knees and lifted one of Yuri’s feet. He slipped on one of the guards before attending to the other. Yuri felt a small smile tug at his lips as he looked down on the legend, the implications of such an act certainly weren’t lost on him. When Victor was done he rose smoothly, a soft click in his knees caused him to wince and Yuri sniggered. “Getting old, Victor.” He teased and Victor’s eyes widened in mock hurt, one elegant hand coming to rest against his heart as if Yuri had grievously wounded him.

“I’m hurt!” Victor pouted, the entire act almost ruined by his urge to smile at the devious look on Yuri’s face. His hair was a little damp with sweat, some errant strands sticking to his forehead. His cheeks were flushed from exercise and perhaps a little embarrassment at his forwardness. Victor was yet again astounded that this spectacular, talented creature was all his. “I think you will have to make this up to me, you little demon.” He said and turned, lifting a hand to indicate the exit into the changing rooms. “I will have to think of some appropriate punishment, yes?” He cocked his head to the side, silver hair sparkling and offered his partner a wink. That flush on Yuri’s cheeks, always so endearing, deepened and his amusement turned to fire in his eyes.

“Or perhaps I should punish you,” Yuri replied, stalking past Victor as he headed away from the rink to gather his things. “After all, you did interrupt my practice simply because you were lonely.”

Victor smirked, eyes glittering eagerly before he chuckled and followed Yuri. “Of course, my lord Yuri.” 

XXX

Phichit slid his gloved thumb across his screen; he was at the rink early having been badgered by his coach into waking up. He stifled a yawn behind his free hand and blinked down sluggishly as he checked his notifications on his social media. He opened Twitter and scrolled through the latest gossip but came to an abrupt halt when he saw some comments beneath a rather sweet picture recently uploaded by Yuri. It depicted Victor, head on his pillow, silver hair splayed everywhere and his face looking innocently peaceful. He smiled at the caption but that quickly faded as he saw the number of times it had been re-tweeted and shared across the various social media sites. Most of the comments were supportive and full praises for the happy couple but one particular comment stuck out;

Yuri Katsuki is thieving, cheating bastard and I’ll prove to the world that he’s nothing but a fat, fake pig!

Phichit was surprised by the vehemence and hatred in that comment; he noted that the same person had left comments on every single one of Yuri’s pictures. At first he thought it might be one of Yurio’s fans, they could be particularly feisty but when he looked at the commenter’s profile he realised it was an adult male and Yurio’s fan’s were mostly teenage girls. With a concerned frown Phichit looked at some other comments;

Yuri needs to be put in his place! How dare he think he can take beautiful Victor from us!

“What are you looking at?”

Phichit jumped a little, he had been so engrossed in his phone he’d not been paying attention to his surroundings. Several more skaters had entered the room and were peering curiously at him; the voice belonged to Chris who was bending over his shoulder curiously. “Ah, uh-checking-.”

“I know that guy!” Chris said abruptly, snatching the phone from Phichit’s fingers. “He’s always hanging around every event Victor ever attended, always begging for photographs and everything. Oooh, he’s still around? Victor was never very comfortable around him, I always wondered about that since he’s always so nice to his fans.”

“Oh it’s him! He was always hanging around our home rink.” Yurio appeared, glancing at the phone at the familiar man. “Victor wouldn’t talk about him and neither would Yakov, always saying I’m ‘too young’.” 

“What does this say?” Phichit asked Yurio who looked down at the mysterious man’s latest rant which was entirely in Russian. 

Yurio’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing a little, “You don’t want to know.” He said gruffly and turned, stalking off to prepare to warm up. Chris and Phichit watched as Yurio leaned close to Yakov, whispering something in his ear which caused the old man’s face to form a wince and then turn to an expression of brief horror. Chris arched an eyebrow and shared a look with Phichit, whatever that message had said, it had not been good.

“Yuri, what’s wrong?” Victor asked as he and Yuri stepped through the doors of the stadium, Yuri’s eyes were on his phone as they walked.

“Huh? Oh…sorry, I was just looking at my messages.” He smiled weakly and was unsurprised to see Victor look suspicious. He sighed under his breath and returned his focus to his phone again, he began deleting as many of the disturbing messages as he could, fear that Victor would somehow see the comments made him paranoid. He was concerned, many of them were in Russian and he knew very little about it, the few he could understand were vicious and filled with unrestrained hatred. No one had ever been so hateful to him before, the closest who had was Yurio but Yuri knew his spite was mainly a defence mechanism and due to his youth. The guy sending him hate mail was different, Yuri didn’t recognise him but just looking at his picture sent chills down his spine. He looked to be roughly in his forties, his profiles were filled with nothing but images of Victor from every part of his glorious career. Yuri had dug around in the stockpile of images and had found some that looked as if they were taken secretly; he doubted Victor was aware of them. The man was far more than a simple fan, he was a creep. Yuri put his phone back in his pocket, chewing his lip as he thought deeply about what to do. Was Victor aware of his stalker? Did he know that there was a man twenty years older than him who had images of him half-dressed as he changed into his costumes? In many of those Victor had long hair so he must have been very young at the time. Yuri’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, he shot Victor a glance as they were halted by a gang of press. Cameras flashed and Victor slung an arm about Yuri’s waist, making him blush helplessly as that warm, gloved hand dug into his side comfortingly. Victor smiled, answered questions and wooed everyone around him as easily as if he were a supermodel. The press dispersed happily and finally they made their way to the green room.


	2. Chapter 2

YuRi KAtsUki NeEds To DiE! 

JuMp OFF A BriDGE No One WANTS or NEeds YOU!!

ViKTOR NikiforoV DeSeRvES BETTER!!

FAT PIGGY go back HoME!

Yuri picked up the notes, written using cut out letters from newspapers and magazines. He could hear Victor in the shower and he took the time to shove the lot of them in the bin, quickly covering them with other rubbish. His heart rate spiked in panic, he had been receiving similar such notes for a week now and each one was worse than the last. A part of him wanted to go to the police but the other had no wish to hurt or distract Victor, after all it was unlikely these threats were anything but empty. The sound of the shower shutting off made Yuri jerk backwards guiltily, he stepped away from the bin and grabbed his phone, pretending he’d been on it all this time. The door opened and steam rolled out, followed by Victor himself. He rubbed absently at his hair as he walked bare-footed over to Yuri and bent over him.

“What are you doing, Yuri?” He asked in a low, husky voice that always made a flush appear on Yuri’s cheeks.

“Oh…just…looking.” Yuri put aside his phone and tilted his head back to look into Victor’s icy blue eyes. Hot, minty breath brushed Yuri’s cheek as Victor’s lips descended onto his own. Yuri’s fingers curled into the mattress beneath him, his eyes slid closed and for a moment all other thought was driven from his mind. Victor drew away after lingering for a few seconds, one hand rising to push Yuri’s hair back from his face. His skin was still slick from the shower and heat rolled off of him in waves; he smelt like ‘Straight to Heaven’ by Kilian, the black bottle was still sat beneath the mirror in the bathroom directly in line of Yuri’s sight. It was a woody and spicy scent that made Yuri feel giddy, something he would forever associate with Victor. He lifted his own hand and tangled it in damp silver hair, slowly dragging Victor back to his lips while holding most of their combined weight on one hand as he was pushed backwards. Victor’s fluffy hotel dressing gown slipped from his shoulders as Yuri’s arm finally gave out and they fell onto the bed together, their lips and tongues moving with increasing heat. Yuri finally pulled away with a gasp as Victor lifted his hand and pinched the bridge of Yuri’s glasses between thumb and forefinger, he pulled them off with a flourish and tossed them carelessly to the other bed before reclaiming Yuri’s lips for his own again.

Yuri welcomed the distraction from his anxious thoughts, he lifted both hands and wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck, holding him close and praying once again that he would be allowed to keep holding him for as long as he was allowed.

“Yuri! Not enough rotations!” Victor called from the sideline as Yuri landed his latest jump, he stumbled a little but managed to recover and move somewhat smoothly into the next step-sequence. He frowned in irritation, uncertain why Victor’s shout had disrupted his concentration. He took a breath and came to a halt before moving back towards Victor, his skates cutting through the surface of the ice smoothly. “This is a complicated programme, you should focus.” Victor reminded him mildly as he handed Yuri a bottle of water, their fingers brushed and Victor smirked. Yuri turned his back on him and looked out over the rink. “Hmm, is Yuri angry with me?” Victor purred by his ear, arms snaking around him from behind and causing Yuri to sigh after a swallow of water.

“No. I’m just…tired.” 

“Then perhaps we should go out to eat tonight, yes? You need the break.”

Yuri closed his eyes and let Victor’s fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders; he relaxed beneath the tender care and let himself be lured to lean against Victor’s chest. “Ok but I get to choose what we eat.”

“Of course my lord.” Victor whispered, his tone teasing.

They exited the rink, a cold wind blew Yuri’s hair from his face and he wrapped his coat tighter around himself in an attempt to keep warm. As they entered the parking lot Yuri came to an abrupt halt, slapping a hand to his back pocket his eyes widened. “I forgot my phone!” He gasped and sent Victor an apologetic look. “Wait here, I’ll be right back!” He dashed off, not giving Victor a chance to reply.

Victor smiled into the wind and put his hands into his pockets, his silk scarf was tugged up and away from where it dangled by his chest. Absently Victor ran his thumb over the smooth gold ring adorning his right hand and his smile brightened the darkness for just a moment. As he waited he heard footsteps and turned, assuming Yuri had returned, only to find a large man standing beside a street lamp. “You’re Victor Nikiforov.” It wasn’t a question and the voice was deep and spoke Russian like a native.

“I am. Are you a fan?” Victor gave the large man a smile, lifting one hand in offering. “It’s always good to meet fans.”

The man moved closer, shadow sliding like liquid from his face. He had stubble coating his jaw, his hair was straggly and reached his shoulders, it looked a little greasy. He reached out, his meaty palm meeting Victor’s and almost encasing his hand completely. “You are…an inspiration.” He said gruffly as Victor tried to tug his hand away, the man, however, seemed reluctant to let go. 

“Ah, thank you very much!” Victor smiled again but it was becoming strained, he was used to weirdo’s haunting him but this guy made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He also seemed somewhat familiar. “Sorry but…do I know you?”

The man smirked, dark eyes sparkling dangerously. “You should.”

“What’s your-”

“Victor! I found it!” Yuri’s voice shattered the thickening tension like glass, Victor turned towards him with a beautiful smile as Yuri ran to his side. The man slid his hand from Victor’s and faded into the shadows once again, when Victor looked back he was gone.

Yuri and Victor went to an upscale restaurant, they ate and had wine and when it came time for desert Victor ordered one and they shared it. Yuri felt all his worries melt away as the alcohol and sweets eased his anxiety, he smiled and blushed at Victor’s flirting, even giving it back the more drunk he got. They had a table by a window that looked out onto the street, the street lights illuminated cars and taxis that darted past, their headlights sending shadows scattering like mice. Neither of them spent much time looking outside however, if they had they would have seen the man standing across the road, the flashes from his camera disguised by the regular passage of vehicles.

Later they stumbled back to the hotel room, pausing only to spend a moment kissing and groping each other up against walls or in the entrances to alleys. Victor loved it; he could barely keep his hands to himself as Yuri slipped his own beneath the hem of his black shirt to trace delicate, cool fingers over the defined muscles of his abdomen. He groaned heavily into Yuri’s mouth before breaking the contact with a soft gasp, Yuri gave him a smirk that set fires in his loins before taking his hand and drawing him back towards the hotel. It began to rain, cold water sliding down the backs of their necks and chilling their heated skin. Yuri’s hair was plastered to his head, his glasses a little wonky as he smiled his Eros smile and pulled Victor into the hotel lobby. The late night receptionist glanced up in time to see them kissing frantically just as the elevator doors close. She smirked to herself and picked up her phone to text her friend.

Outside, in the rain, a shadow climbed the fire escape of the building beside the hotel. He found the correct window and pulled the hood of his coat over his head, he didn’t have to wait long before the pair fell through their door and into the room. The shadow smirked, prepping his camera as Yuri managed to pull open Victor’s shirt. Buttons flew everywhere but neither seemed to notice the destruction of a very expensive piece of clothing. Yuri shoved Victor hard in the chest, sending him falling backwards onto one of the pushed together beds. With another seductive smirk Yuri climbed on top, his knees placed either side of Victor’s thighs. Both of them were flushed, panting and the shadow started to snap pictures. Yuri’s shirt got stuck around his head, the neck catching on his glasses so his chest was exposed to the mercy of Victor’s finger tips and lips. Victor’s shirt fell from his shoulders to catch around his elbows, his back was exposed to the shadow and he let slip a soft moan as pale flesh and old childhood scars appeared. He could see a few more recent scratches, obviously from finger nails and a yellowing chain of bite marks marring the side of his throat. The shadow couldn’t hear anything but it remains in place as the two beyond the glass finally extract Yuri from his prison.

It didn’t take long before Yuri slid down Victor’s body, covering his skin in kisses and bites before he reached the top of Victor’s tight jeans. He yanked them open and his head disappeared from the shadows sight, however Victor gave him the view he really wanted. He stretches one arm high above his head, neck bent and back arched beautifully as his face twisted in pure rapture. The shadow’s camera clicks again and again, sealing the private moment forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, Victor distracted Yuri during a jump! I apologise for those people who know Figure Skating, I'm getting all my info from the internet as I only ever watch it because it looks pretty (Have done since I was a kid but my understanding is limited) so I've got no idea how training sessions would actually work. I hope you can forgive me. 
> 
> A side note: Victor's stalker is what is called an 'Incompetent Suitor', someone who effectively feels entitled to the person of their 'affection'. They usually obsess over people already in relationships. He does not see what he is doing as wrong, seeing as he is under the delusion that Victor belongs to him and he's extremely jealous of Yuri.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, apparently I'm on a role here. I will warn that this chapter contains someone taking pictures of a minor, if this disturbs you then I'd recommend you skip it. I will update the tags. I will also say that nothing explicitly sexual in nature happens to any minor in this story, it is just this one instance of the dirty stalker being disgusting. I needed this to further the story, sorry. However, it is lightened by a bit of fluff so it's not all doom and gloom all the time.

The ballet studio was empty when Yurio arrived, he casually dropped his bag to the floor of the changing rooms and started to dress in his black leggings and figure hugging t-shirt. As he was slipping his shirt on over his head he heard voices, a soft, familiar chuckle and then another accented voice. Yurio’s face twisted in irritation; of course Victor would bring The Piggy here. He grabbed his bag and snuck into a corner, hoping not to be noticed. It was dim in the changing rooms, only a few light bulbs still worked so he might be able to pass himself off as a shadow. He was in no mood to deal with the happy couple, their sappiness made him want to retch. The pair approached the room, their voices rising as they chatted away in accented English. Yuri didn’t know enough Russian yet to fully have a conversation in the language and Victor’s understanding of Japanese was also minimal. Yuri’s English was better, he used slang easily and seemed more comfortable with the language than Victor but Yurio supposed that was what happened when you spent so much time living in another country. They entered, hand in hand as Victor showed Yuri some of his old haunts. They didn’t notice either Yurio or the other shadow that twitched somewhere outside the windows. Yurio’s eyes narrowed, he dared not move as Victor pulled Yuri into an embrace and they kissed for a moment. 

Yurio zoned out the two of them as they started declaring their undying love for each other lest it make him sick and he give away his position. The man, for that was now what Yurio assumed it was, was crouched low and peering into the locker rooms with beady eyes. One large hand pressed against the glass as his breath fogged it up. Yurio felt a chill go down his spine, he automatically covered himself with his arms; he had been naked in front of this creep. Yakov had told him to watch himself, to never go anywhere alone while this man was out there. The police had been informed but Yakov had insisted that Victor not be warned, he had said that it would only hurt him. Whatever that guy had done to Victor Yurio had never been able to learn but it must have been pretty awful for Yakov to look so afraid. Yurio had been so stupid to assume he was safe from this weirdo, he had his share of obsessive fans but they were generally very friendly, he got sent gifts all the time and his fangirls commiserated or celebrated with him whenever he needed it. They were a nice bunch, defending him viciously if they deemed him needing it but he had never encountered something as obscene as the creep now watching Victor strip his shirt off. He saw the window slowly lift and it broke his paralysis, he stepped forward, eyes wide as the window revealed half a face. “Victor!” He said, voice high in panic and eyes wide as he stumbled from his hiding place.

Victor and Yuri both made startled sounds as Victor spun around to see Yurio looking at him with a pale face, eyes wide and showing far too much white. He resembled the child he was and it tugged something deep in Victor’s heart, some sort of protective fathering instinct he had never thought he had. He stepped forward smoothly, arms out to catch hold of Yurio’s elbows to steady him. Yurio turned terror-filled eyes up to the window and pointed. “There! There was a man!” He said in Russian, Yuri blinked at him, following his finger in confusion. 

“Yuratchka, calm down there’s nothing there.” Victor muttered with a soft smile, “You’re seeing things.”

Yurio blinked rapidly and shook his head, eyes moving back to the window. “He saw me undress.” He whispered hoarsely searching for any sign of the creepy man. “H-He…”  
“It was shadows, that is all.” Victor assured him, “Are you getting enough sleep, nerves can make you-“

“No!” Yurio stepped out of Victor’s reach, shaking his head so fast his hair flew outwards. “There was some creep watching us through the window, Victor! I saw him!”  
Something unidentifiable crossed Yuri’s face, his hand twitched towards the pocket his phone was currently in before he blinked and met Yurio’s eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment before Yuri shook his head subtly, Yurio got the point; do not tell Victor that we both know about the man. Yurio made a harsh sound in the back of his throat before throwing his arms in the air.

“Fine! If you won’t believe me…I’m going home, you can practice alone.” He made to pick up his bag again, hand shaking far more than he wanted it to. That man, his face…it had shaken him so badly. He had seen him naked. A stranger. A man who was, by all rights, in his late forties or fifties. A man of Yakov’s age. He shook his head again to clear it, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the target, after all.

“Yurio, we’ll walk you home.” Yuri said quietly from where he now stood by the door, a look of quiet sympathy in his soft brown eyes that Yurio did not want or need.   
“I don’t need a fat pig to be looking after me, I’m no child!” He spat furiously, hands curling into fists. “I can look after myself!”  
Yuri smiled sympathetically, “No, you’re not but perhaps it’d be safer to stay together, yeah?”

Yurio didn’t really have a choice in the matter as Victor picked up his bag after putting his shirt back on and guided him to the door with one hand on his lower back, before he left he glanced back over his shoulder and was almost certain he saw the flash of a camera lens in the low window.

The walk back to their hotel was done in silence, Yurio felt as if he was about to explode with tension. He kept glancing back over his shoulder and starting at shadows. He couldn’t handle the pressure. It was damp; the air cool and soft rain had begun to fall so he pulled his hood up over his head. A pair of cat ears attached to the hoodie stuck up in the air and Yuri smiled indulgently at them making Yurio feel self-conscious.

“Otabek saw it and got it for me.” He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching his shoulders. He glared at the damp pavement beneath his trainers and kicked at a can so it skittered out of sight into a drain.

“It’s cute.” Yuri replied in Japanese, his voice barely audible over the sounds of passing cars splashing in puddles. Yurio didn’t understand much Japanese but he understood that, he humf’d and flushed, hating himself for feeling flattered.

They walked the rest of the way in silence and separated as soon as they entered the Hotel’s large lobby, Yurio strode straight up to the elevator and hit the button to his floor. When the doors opened he stepped inside, the other two didn’t follow for which he was grateful. He reached his floor and stepped out into the hallway, he turned left and found his room and when he opened it he was confronted by a furious Yakov.

“What did I tell you about going out late?”

Yurio hesitated before sighing heavily, huffing his fringe from his face and striding past his irate coach to dump his training bag on the bed. Then he threw himself down onto it and gazed up at the ceiling while Yakov ranted at him, sometimes it was best to let the old guy let off steam before trying to talk to him. Yurio understood perfectly how worried Yakov had been, he should have told him where he was going but he hadn’t really considered the stalker a real threat. Now, however, he wasn’t so sure.

“I warned you, Yura! I warned you not to leave without either me or Lilia by your side but you never listen! Now look at what happened.” He tossed his phone into Yurio’s lap as he lifted himself up onto his elbows. On the screen was some obscure website, there was a long series of images on there. He picked up the phone with a shaking hand and scrolled through them, he felt suddenly sick and sat upright. The phone dropped from numb fingers as he bent over and pushed hands deep into his hair. “You were lucky this time that the police managed to find the images before anyone else.” Yakov sighed, closing his eyes tightly. “I do not want to have to watch you go through the same thing Victor did, this man is not to be trifled with.”

Yuri averted his eyes from the phone and the detailed pictures of his own body. “Sorry.” He mumbled, lowering his head again and using his hair as a shield.  
“I know, Yura…I know.” Yakov sighed heavily and sank down onto his own bed, “The competition will begin soon and I don’t want you to be distracted by fear. The hotel is under strict surveillance so I think we’re safe here for now. Until the competition is over I want you to stay within my sight, if he hurts you…I don’t know what I would do.”

“Why…?” Yurio’s voice broke a little before he cleared it again. “Why me? I thought he was after Victor.”

“We believe that the man thinks of you as some sort of younger Victor, you remind him of Victor when he was your age. Unlike Victor now you are vulnerable, you’re an innocent and that man is pining for Victor’s lost innocence through you.”

Yurio shuddered, grabbing his elbows tightly as his gaze remained fixed on the carpet. “What do we do?” He asked, finally lifting his head and fixing his piercing eyes on Yakov.  
“We wait for the police to do their jobs.” Yakov assured him and rose. “Get a shower and get some sleep, Yura. You’re safe here; I’ll make sure of it.”

Before Yakov could leave Yurio halted him, “What about Yuri? He knows about the man.”

Yakov looked back at him with a heavy frown, his lips pulled into a taught line. “Has he told Victor?” Yurio shook his head, of that he was certain. “Then we must tell Yuri to take all precautions, this man is crazy. He’ll see Yuri as a threat and try to eliminate him.”

“What…what happened to Victor? What did that man do to him?”

Yakov sighed heavily; he suddenly looked ten years older as he ran a hand down his face tiredly. “Victor never told us the details; I believe he has erased the incident from his memory. That boy has always had a mind like a sieve anyway. He disappeared for two weeks, it took the police a long time to find him and then one day he just appears outside my door; half naked, eyes like a hunted deer and shivering. I’ve never seen him so afraid. It took the police years to catch the man and he was sent to prison but now it appears he has been released. He was fifteen.”

Yurio swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat before nodding jerkily; Yakov gave him a small smile meant to comfort him before bidding him good night and closing the door.

Victor and Yuri were drunk. Utterly plastered. The bar they had visited had closed for the evening and it was pouring with rain, an unexpected weather development that left them unprepared. As the rain cascaded down upon them Yuri grabbed Victor’s arm and dragged him into an impromptu street dance, Yuri spread his arms, reaching upwards and bends his spine backwards. Victor watched on with a laugh on his lips. Their eyes shone in the darkness, their feet kicking up water as they splashed through puddles and Yuri leapt up onto a lamp post, using his momentum to swing around it with one arm outstretched. Victor drew him close and lifted him easily into the air, Yuri was pretty light and it didn’t take much effort. As Victor lowered him down Yuri’s hands slid into his hair and pulled him down for a heated kiss. Yuri’s smile lit up the night like neon, Victor’s heart pounded in his chest like a heart attack but much more pleasant. He was drawn after Yuri as he danced down the street, arms flung about in abandon and his laughter filling the cool air. The alcohol they had ingested kept them warm until they reached the hotel; soaked to the bone, panting and barely able to keep away from each other. Victor dragged Yuri to the lift, hair dripping and darkening the carpet as a bellboy gaped at them both. Yuri giggled insanely, lunging at Victor and tackling him into the wall of the elevator. Their lips met again in a sloppy kiss, their tongues met and tangled and Victor couldn’t prevent the groan from escaping his throat as he smoothed Yuri’s hair back from his flushed face. His glasses sat wonkily on his nose but neither of them seemed too worried. They should have been training but Yuri had been fretting about his Quads so Victor had taken upon himself to distract him. His instagram was now full of images of Yuri in the rain, light sparking from the lenses of his glasses and making the rain sparkle around him. Victor fell in love for the millionth time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a bit of Russian in this and it's probably completely wrong. I used Google translate and it's dodgy at the best of times, so I apologise. Also, please remember I am not a Figure Skater and I've only ever been casually interested in it so all my info is coming from Wikipedia. I swear I'm trying my best! Thank you all for staying with this story for this long, I'm too fast at typing for my own good and I've been spotting way too many mistakes...*Sigh* It's annoying. I hope you continue to enjoy, despite the brutally short chapters.

The underground room was dark except for the eerie red light that hung above a long work bench, it swung lightly back and forth sending shadows dancing over the three shallow trays beneath. The man leaned over one of the trays, a pair of tongs clutched in one sweaty hand as he swished a piece of paper gently back and forth in the liquid. An image was appearing in stark black and white, an image of a man stood upon the ice of an almost empty rink. His silver hair framed his perfect, angelic face as he raised his hands to the lights above. His expression was one of perfect contentment, he was beautiful. “Victor…” The man whispered hoarsely into the dark room, he sighed and finally removed the image and hung it up to dry beside several others. The room was full of images of Victor, a few contained Yuri Katsuki but that couldn’t be helped as they both seemed attached at the hip. He moved along the rows of images, pausing at one of the little blond skater Yuri Plisetsky, young and tender and still so innocent. He reminded the man so much of Victor in his youth, it was sad that Victor had lost that perfection and had shacked up with some nobody from Japan. Yuri Katsuki could never compare to Victor, his flaws were obvious to everyone. It hurt to remember Victor’s face when he watched him skate, the way those stunning blue eyes lit up, the way his smile illuminated all nearby. The man raised a hand and brushed his finger tips over an image of Victor’s smile, in the darkness he smirked to himself. “Soon, my beautiful angel. Soon you will be mine once again.”

Victor watched in awe as Yuri completed a flawless Mohawk turn into a beautiful Loop jump, the lights flashed off of the sequins of his costume and the crowd cheered as he landed as perfectly as he had taken off. Victor smiled, leaning against the barrier with one elbow and his chin cupped in one hand. Yuri truly was beautiful when he skated. Once again his step sequence was just about perfect but he almost missed his footing on his next jump, Victor shook his head fondly as the crowd roared despite the mistake. 

Afterwards Yuri took a bow, smiling at the crowd before his eyes found Victor’s. Victor nodded his head once and Yuri’s smile darkened everything else around him. The points were given, Yuri scored high but he was a little disappointed by the lukewarm reaction of the judges. Victor held him close, whispering comfort in his ear and made him smile, pushing him away a little. Finally they left the rink, returning to the locker rooms so Yuri could change. While he was in the shower, Victor spent a moment on the internet, scrolling through the latest news. Most of it was the usual stuff but he froze when he spotted an article from yesterday’s edition of the local paper, his thumb hovered uncertainly over a very familiar image. It took him too long to realise he had stopped breathing as scattered memories tried to return in full force. He swallowed and hit the link with a shaking hand, bringing up the article.

‘Anton Ivanov, a man made infamous when he kidnapped world famous figure skater Victor Nikiforov thirteen years ago, as recently been released from prison. Ivanov spent a year stalking the younger Victor both on and off the ice, the police never released the truth of what happened in the brief period Mr. Nikiforov had disappeared but many have speculated. In light of his recent relationship with fellow skater Yuri Katsuki (Japan’s number one male figure skater), we extend our well wishes to the happy couple and hope they remain safe.’

Victor took a shuddery breath, eyes glued to the picture of Ivanov. He was younger in the image, with his long hair tied back from his face and a small smile on his lips. He was built like a pro-wrestler with large hands and broad chest, but Victor remembered the strange fan he had encountered merely days ago outside the rink after practice. A shudder tore down his spine as words echoed in the deep, dark places in his mind;

Victor, my angel. Come to me. Dance for me, Victor.

Victor…

Vic-

-tor?”

Victor shook himself, blinking away the shadows of memory to focus on Yuri’s concerned face. He found himself sat on one of the benches adorning the changing rooms; he didn’t remember sitting at all. “Oh…Yuri…” He breathed, looking at the face of his boyfriend. Yuri’s hair was still damp from the shower, he had pushed it back out of his face so he looked similar to when he had performed Eros, only with glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Victor, are you ok? You look pale.” Yuri reached out and pushed a hand beneath Victor’s fringe to test his forehead; he hummed and shook his head. “A little cool.”  
“I’m Russian; we’re all made of ice here.” Victor joked lamely, trying to brush off what he had just read. He stood and shoved his phone into his pocket as he took Yuri’s hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing the golden ring. He smiled, this time it was easier. “Let’s go home, Yuri.” He whispered and Yuri nodded, grabbing his bag and allowing Victor to pull him from the changing rooms.

Phichit leaned back in his chair, glaring at the screen of his laptop. One of his contacts had sent him links to a dodgy website that held vast stores of images, all taken by a single man. One look had confirmed to Phichit that his best friend was trouble, or at least, was soon going to be. Although the creator of the site obviously didn’t use his real name, Phichit had no doubt it was the same guy who was sending Yuri all those horrible messages on Instagram and Twitter. He was tempted to alert the police but he was already pretty certain they knew and he was reluctant to tell Yuri in case it made him mess up his Free Skate, he was stuck and had no idea how to handle it. Then, as he sighed heavily and ran both hands through his tousled hair he spotted a name on the screen, despite the fact it was in Russian he would recognise it anywhere; Victor. Victor would know what to do, he was certain. He snatched his phone up from where it sat on the tiny hotel desk and swiped his thumb across it, accessing his contacts and finding Victor’s number. He had, admittedly, copied it after sneaking a peak at Yuri’s phone but he didn’t feel too guilty because he knew he would only ever use it in an emergency. He hit the green button and waited as it rang.

Victor yawned as his phone buzzed by his head, he had been trying to sleep for the past hour and failed. Yuri was at his side, arm flung around his waist and trapping him in the warmth of their make-shift bed. He groaned as he shifted and reached blindly for his phone as he tried to avoid waking up Yuri, his fingers found it and he automatically answered the call, “Здравствуйте?”

“Uhhh…V-Victor?”

Victor blinked, his sluggish mind taking a moment to translate the English. “Oh…yes. Yes this is Victor, who’s speaking?” He stifled a yawn and sat up, gently displacing Yuri’s hand and soothing his partner’s sleepy whine with a gentle touch to the hair. He slid out of bed, dressed in his boxer shorts and scratched at himself as he wondered into the bathroom so he could shut the door and not disturb Yuri. 

“It’s Phichit…uh…Yuri’s friend?”

Victor frowned a little, gazing at his own tired looking reflection in the mirror. “Why are you calling me and not Yuri?” He asked, perhaps a little rudely but it was late.  
“Well…I can’t tell Yuri, he’s skating tomorrow but I’ve got to warn somebody.”

“Warn…?” Victor’s eyes narrowed, fear clutching his chest in a way it hadn’t since he was a child and had been snatched right off the streets of St. Petersburg. “Phichit, what’s wrong?”

Phichit took a breath, “I found a website run by the same man who kidnapped you thirteen years ago.” He began slowly, his voice heavy with the weight of what he was saying. Victor took a sharp breath and leaned heavily against the sink, head hanging low so his hair obscured his eyes. “It is full of pictures of you but…but not just you, he’s got images of Yuri-the Russian Yuri-and Japanese Yuri too! They’re everywhere, hundreds of them. He’s been following you since you arrived weeks ago…I’m worried, it doesn’t look as if the police are going to catch him and he’s been sending Yuri death threats over social media-”

“What?” Victor looked up, eyes wide.

“You…you didn’t know? Oh…”

“Yuri never said.”

“Ahh…well…maybe-maybe he’s just been trying to protect you?” Phichit offered uncertainly, wincing at Victor’s sharp, humourless snort.

“If he has been he has been endangering himself. I must speak to Yakov, he’s the only one who can explain this…thank you for telling me, Phichit, don’t worry I’ll make sure nothing happens to Yuri.”

“Thanks.” Phichit relaxed certain that Victor would uphold his promise. He hung up and sighed, turning his laptop off and stretching. He had a long day ahead of him and he needed to be well rested for the Free Skate.


	5. Chapter 5

Victor was at the rink at the crack of dawn, the gold on his blades flashed as he slid across the ice lazily. His eyes were unfocussed and he was deep in thought, Yuri was out for a run and wouldn’t be back for an hour and he was pretty sure he would have the rink to himself for a good long while yet. Technically he wasn’t actually supposed to be there before a competition, however, he had pulled a few strings and got special permission. No one else was around, he had ensured he utmost privacy. Yuri wasn’t the only one who skated to think, the ice hissed beneath him, the cool air chilling his skin and making him feel a little less like he was floating out of his body. He turned, hair flying from his face as peace settled his turbulent mind. A soft sigh escaped him and he began the first few steps of one of his older routines, he could hear the music inside his head and let it overtake him. He lost himself in the purity of the movement, in the strain on his muscles as he took off from the ice and landed a perfect quad. His arms spread outward as he performed an Ina Bauer, he moved with familiar grace. He was so lost in his own mind he didn’t hear the familiar click of a camera or the sound of heavy, military style boots on hard floor.

Ivanov was utterly captivated, his eyes wide as he watched his Victor dance. Despite his age he still somehow managed to evoke his younger self, his hair was shorter perhaps and his body larger but he was still as graceful as an angel. He lifted his camera to his eye and captured him again mid-jump; Victor landed it flawlessly and moved into a slow, beautiful step sequence. His arms moved with his body, he was lost to the music inside his head and his expression mirrored that of a Renaissance painting. Finally Victor came to a halt, eyes on the dim lights overhead. He was panting quite a bit, a fine sheen of sweat on his face as he took a moment to catch his breath. Ivanov noted his exhaustion, the programme itself wouldn’t have been too much of a problem in Victor’s younger skating days but now it seemed to be taking a toll. Victor lowered his head and turned to the edge of the rink. Ivanov moved then, into the light to intercept him.

The second Victor spotted him he froze, four feet away from the exit of the rink. They stared at each other for a solid minute until Victor moved back several paces more, as if the ice would protect him. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing in a challenging stare. “Vitya.”

Victor shuddered visibly, “You don’t call me that.” He said, voice low but full of venom.

“You allow the pig to call you that.”

“What do you want?” Victor watched as Ivanov stepped cautiously onto the ice, his boots proving a little traction. “Stay away from me!”

“You are beautiful still, Vitya.” He kept walking, taking his time. For each step he took, Victor slid back, as if they were performing some sick parody of a dance. “Your hair looks like starlight, your skin-”

“Shut up!” Victor shook his head rapidly, as if he was shaking off an irritating fly. He glared furiously at Ivanov as he was forced further and further back, helpless against his instinct to avoid any close contact with this man. A man who had haunted his nightmares time and time again, the man who had eventually caused him to cut off all his hair in a fit of rage and self-hatred. A man who had caused Yakov to force him into counselling, even if they didn’t work due to his memory loss. It hurt to be near him, to be forced to remember that terrifying week trapped in the dark and chained to a damp, freezing cold wall…

“Dance for me again, Vitya…that is all I ask. My beautiful angel…dance-”

“GET AWAY!” Victor’s left foot slid from beneath him, for the first time in a long time he fell to the ice. He caught himself on his elbow, but pain shot up his arm and he caused him to suck in a sharp breath. He rolled to all fours, lifting himself up and realised he was close to the edge of the rink now.

“Don’t you remember, my love? That time we spent together was the happiest time of my life. I only want to be with you once again, we were meant to be! I loved you, I still love you. Only I can love you as you truly deserve, my beautiful one. I only wish to see you dance for me again.”

“I won’t do anything for you; I swear if you come any closer I will call the police!” Victor hissed, climbing to his feet and stepping backwards onto firm ground. He was close now, all it would take was several steps through the curtain and he would be able to run.

Ivanov, however, had stopped. He was looking at Victor with agony shining in his small, dark eyes. “What has he done to you?” He whispered hoarsely, “Oh my angel…what has he done to corrupt you so? I remember you cried for me. You wept tears like crystals; I still treasure the picture I took of them resting on your cheeks. Victor, come back to me and we can be together again! You don’t need that Japanese devil! He is ruining you, can’t you see that? He’s not good for you.”

“You’re a freak, Ivanov! I never loved you and I never will! How could I love someone who kidnapped me? You stole me from my family and my friends, you took me away and I was still just a child! I was fifteen years old, can’t you see how twisted you are?”

“Oh…oh no. No, no, no…my precious angel…” Ivanov reached out, his fingers grazing the front of Victor’s black shirt, Victor flinched away and stumbled into the doors that separated the rink from the rest of the building.

“I can’t love you, Ivanov…I love Yuri Katsuki.” He spat before turning and yanking the door open, he ran as fast as he could, despite the skates still encasing his feet.

‘ _Who…who are you?’_

_‘My name, sweet angel, is Anton Ivanov.’_

_‘W-Why? Why have you done this? Just…just take me back! I’ve got practice and I can’t miss it, Yakov will kill me.’_

_‘Shh, hush now. Everything is as it’s meant to be, we’re together now and nothing can separate us. Victor…Vitya, my angel, dance for me…’_

By the time the police arrived Ivanov had disappeared once again. The second Yuri heard about Ivanov being spotted at the rink with Victor he raced there as fast as he could. He burst through the doors and spotted Victor sitting on a bench, head bowed and hands gripping his hair tightly. Yuri froze for a split second, taking in the sight of his lover’s distress before running forward, pushing through the crowd until he fell to his knees before Victor. “V-Victor…?” He asked hesitantly, his hands hovering over Victor’s, uncertain if he wanted to be touched. Victor heard his voice and his breath hitched, he dropped his hands and slid from the bench straight into Yuri’s arms where he buried his face in Yuri’s neck and held on as tightly as he could.

Yakov looked down at them, his mouth taught with worry. Yurio stood uncertainly behind him, eyes on the couple as they comforted each other as if he’d never seen them before. In a way that was true, Yurio had never witnessed any form of weakness from Victor. He had seemed somehow immortal, a god, a divine angel but now all Yurio could see was a man with a dark past and secrets held for far too long in his heart. A man who had locked himself away from the world to protect the fragile child that still suffered within. Yurio stepped back, away from Yakov and away from Yuri and Victor; he excused himself to the bathroom without looking at anyone. Victor’s despair didn’t need any witnesses; Yurio was useless, even Yakov was useless the only man Victor wanted right now was Yuri.

Victor buried himself in Yuri’s scent, a shudder shaking him to his core. He hadn’t felt nearly as terrified in the moment as he did now, it was strange really. However, his yearning for his boyfriend’s arms hadn’t changed. He needed Yuri far more than Yuri needed him, he was certain of it. Yuri was so much stronger, far more brave. He faced his terrors, he faced them and won more often than not. Victor hid himself, too scared of the shadows that haunted him in his sleep, he hid and refused to allow anyone inside his walls until Yuri had come along and melted them as easily as fire would ice. Victor heard the mutters of those around them but in that moment they didn’t matter, he closed his eyes tightly and shivered in Yuri’s arms. “Help me.” He whispered, using the little Japanese he knew and he felt Yuri tense. “Help me, Yuri.”

“I’m here Victor, I’m here for you.” Yuri replied, closing his own eyes and gripping his boyfriend tighter. “I’m not going to leave your side. I promise.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, just a heads-up here: This chapter contains a kiss between a minor and a (pervy) adult. It IS mild and very chaste but just wanted to warn people. 
> 
> A little bit of info here; Ivanov is NOT a paedophile or an ephebophile (I had to look up the spelling on google...I really hope no one looks at my search history, lol). Yes, he was attracted to teen Victor and is mildly attracted to Yurio HOWEVER, these are the ONLY two teens he's ever been attracted to and Yurio is the exception because he reminds him so much of Victor. In most cases of this type of stalking the stalker is only attracted to that one person, they can be of any age but it's only that one person (or in this case two people). An ephebophile is someone who is sexually attracted to teenagers generally. Ivanov isn't. As weird as it sounds I looked it up. A paedo is someone who is strictly attracted to pre-pubescent children, which Yurio is NOT. He's well into puberty by now. People always get the two mixed up so I'm just stating the difference. Anywho, Ivanov's really freaking me out now...I hate writing him, he makes me feel creepy as fuck. :( I hope you enjoy anyway! Thank you all for your amazing input, I'm blown away by the interest in this fic, I honestly wasn't expecting it to be so popular. :D

_“I can’t love you, Ivanov…I love Yuri Katsuki.”_

Yuri Katsuki. The Pig. What did he have over Victor? Why was Victor denying the truth when it was so blatantly obvious? The attraction between them had been immediate the second Victor had first met Ivanov’s eyes during his Senior debut thirteen years before, the moment had been sealed in Ivanov’s memory forever as the day Victor and he had fallen irrevocably in love.

_“Oh! Are you a fan? Do you want my autograph?”_

Ivanov had kept the piece of paper Victor had signed for him for many years since, however, during his arrest the police had taken it as ‘evidence’. It was as if the entire world was against their fated union, he had been thwarted time and time again by outside influences, and Victor’s own shyness. He had fled the first time Ivanov had taken him home with him, it was obvious Victor wanted to stay but he had been young and perhaps not ready for a serious, adult relationship. So Ivanov had allowed the police to arrest him when his time came, they didn’t really understand. How could they? He doubted anyone had ever experienced a love like his and Victor’s. Oh he had tried explaining it to the judge but they had only put him behind bars, he had tried to explain it to his cell-mates who had called him awful names as they had beaten him. But they were all wrong; he would never have spoilt such a beautiful creature as Victor Nikiforov. Victor simply hadn’t been ready and so Ivanov was happy to wait for the day he would be, and he knew now. He knew their time had come; he had waited thirteen long, agonising years so that they could finally be together. He had seen the mutual longing in Victor’s sky blue eyes, eyes like a winter’s day. A lake coated in ice, only waiting for the summer sun to come and melt it. Yes, Ivanov knew that Victor only needed a little more convincing and the only obstacle standing in the way of their love was Yuri Katsuki; the interloper, the foreigner. The man who intended to destroy their perfect and pure love, he had to be removed somehow. He had to die.

Anton stood in the middle of his bare apartment, his gaze fell upon the small bedside table and he moved towards it slowly. His walls were plastered from ceiling to floor in nothing but images of Victor. By the door he was dancing in the rain, by the window he was lying in bed nude except for the blankets tangled around his legs. Above the bed were posters, well worn with age of a young Victor with long hair cascading down his back, framing his boyish face. In a frame on the bedside table was a special image, one that had sat undisturbed inside a lockbox for thirteen years. The image showed Victor lying in a bed with a plain metal frame, he was asleep, one arm curled protectively around his body while his hair acted as a secondary blanket. He lay like an unconscious angel, long limbed…beautiful. Anton smiled, running his finger over the picture and remembering Victor’s tears as he had begged to be released. He had been too eager with the child, had scared him away. Anton knew now that it had only been shyness and not resistance that had caused Victor to act so rashly, it was a shame he had beaten him like he had. It had been a mistake but now he would rectify it, it was what both he and Victor wanted and needed. Theirs was a love that no one could come between. “Soon, my love.” He whispered into the empty room as he opened a draw in the table and withdrew a small pistol, he opened it and checked the cartridges. Once satisfied he closed it and tucked it into his belt, covering it with his shirt. “I will make sure that Katsuki no longer stands between us, my sweet angel.” With that he turned and left his apartment, heading down the stairs.

“Mm…Victor?” Yuri blinked sleepily, one arm unfurling and searching the other side of the bed. His questing fingers found only cool bedding, slowly his eyes opened a crack and he hissed as light hit his retinas. He rubbed at them and yawned, attempting to open them again and this time mostly succeeding. “Victor?” He called, a little louder this time. The room was empty and he couldn’t hear the shower either, Yuri sat up and picked up his phone. No calls but a text from Victor;

‘Yuri, don’t worry. I’m at Yakov’s. I’ll be back soon.’

Yuri let out a slow sigh of relief, the second half of the competition had been postponed as the police wanted to make sure that Ivanov was definitely not lurking in the rink and waiting for his chance to seriously hurt someone. Yuri had taken Victor home that day and had lain with him on the bed in silence, gently running his fingers up his arm. Victor hadn’t said a single thing to him, only held his hand, fingers entwined as he absently played with the ring on Yuri’s right hand. His phone buzzed in his hand and he almost dropped it in fright, he pushed his glasses further up onto his nose and looked at his screen. It was from Yurio.

‘Hey, Pig. Where’s Victor? I don’t see either of you at practice yet. Are you wimping out? You know I’m going to kick your sorry, piggy ass.’

Yuri felt a smile tug at his lips, knowing it was Yurio’s way of telling them he was worried and wanted to know if everything was ok. Yuri replied that Victor was with Yakov and they would meet him at the rink later.

‘Yakov mentioned something and he’s not here yet so guess they’re together. I hope you fall off a fucking bridge, fatso.’

Yuri laughed to himself, of all the death threats he’d ever gotten, somehow Yurio’s always seemed more like friendly hello’s rather than actual threats. He put his phone back on the side table and stood up, stretching a little and yawning broadly again. He scratched absently at his chest and decided to order up room service rather than eat down stairs; he used the phone on the bedside table and ordered what he wanted before stripping off his shirt and going to take a shower.

Yurio stood outside the rink, taking a break while a few other skaters had the chance to practice too. He wore his national team jacket and training pants as he leaned back against the wall. Lilia had been babysitting him and her presence was a little overbearing, he had to escape if only for five minutes. He knew she was going to chew him out but he was safe, it was broad daylight and the police were watching the rink or so he had been told. He couldn’t spot any police cars about, hopefully they were undercover. He sighed and looked up at the bright wintery sky; the odd cloud scudded by and obscured the watery sunlight. The sounds of the city were comforting. He could smell car fumes and fresh, cold air and he closed his eyes as he let himself relax. Nothing would harm him in broad daylight, he was certain of it.

“Are you Yuri Plistetsky?”

Yurio opened his eyes and squinted upward to see a man with his face hidden in the shadows of his hood; he spoke Russian and was obviously native. “Yeah, what the hell do you want?” He snapped irritably, his peace disturbed.

“You could say I’m a fan.”

“Oh good for you, now fuck off old man, I’m busy.” Yurio pushed himself away from the wall he was leant against, both hands shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders slouched. He made to move away from the man, who somehow gave him chills. However a hand like iron grabbed his upper arm, he was dragged back away from the double doors of the rink and around the corner. A gasp escaped his lips but before he could scream the other hand was clamped around his mouth. He struggled as violently as he could but all his flailing got him nowhere, the man was strong. He was pulled into an alley and thrown against the wall, he hit his head hard enough to see stars and grabbed it with both hands as he winced. When he looked up he was faced by the barrel of a gun, his heart froze in his chest and his voice dried up in his throat. He couldn’t speak and he certainly couldn’t scream as terror closed his throat.

“You’re very beautiful, boy.” The man said, his voice almost sweet. “You remind me so much of Victor, such a pretty child. Perhaps if you grew your hair out you could be brothers.” The man sighed dreamily, “It’s unfortunate that Victor captured my heart first, I’m certain you would have stolen it if not.” He crouched and reached out, cupping Yurio’s face with one hand. “I would hate to spoil such good looks.” Yurio’s hair fell in front of one eye, obscuring it and half of the man’s face. Yurio swallowed but the lump in his throat remained, his voice locked away by terror. He couldn’t even move, despite the fact he was internally screaming at himself to run. Run as far away as possible. The gun came up and the man used the barrel to move the hair from Yurio’s face, revealing it in its entirety. Yurio whimpered, a pathetic sound but he was too terrified to hate himself for it. He was leaning closer, his hot, rank breath caressing Yurio’s cheek. Yurio cringed back, his head hitting the wall again but he had nowhere to go as chapped lips met his in a chaste kiss, he gasped in a lungful of air and would have screamed if Ivanov’s fingers hadn’t clamped down on his jaw. He winced as agony made his bones creak. A few stray tears escaped his eyes as Ivanov tilted his head so they were looking into each other’s eyes, “Give the little piggy a message from me; leave. Leave Russia and never come back, if I see him near Victor again I will kill him.”

Ivanov released Yurio and stepped back, eyes admiring the small, shivering form and a small, fond smile lighting his face. After a moment he walked away, leaving Yurio to curl up on himself, knees drawn to his chest and shaking hand scrabbling in his pockets. Finally he found his phone and pulled it out, already tears had blurred his vision as he hit the contact he wanted. The phone rang as one tear escaped his eye and slid down his cheek, splashing on his hand.

_“Hello?”_

“B-Beka…”

_“Yuri? Is…everything ok?”_

“Beka…I-I n-need you…I-I…I need help…P-please…” The words stuck in his throat and tasted like bile but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get up, terror had weakened his knees and he would only fall down again. He needed someone, someone he trusted implicitly. “H-help me, Beka.”

_“Where are you? I’ll come get you.”_

A soft sob escaped his lips and he lifted his free hand, pressing the palm into his watering eyes. “Out the back of the rink…I-In the alley…H-Hurry…”

Otabek hung up but Yurio knew he’d come. He always did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is a pretty depressing chapter. Warning's for memories of sexual abuse, it's not graphic but just in case I wanted to let my readers know. I realised I haven't tagged it as such but I will add the tag after posting this chapter, don't worry. I literally never expected this to be so popular, I'm blown away by all the support i'm recieving and I cannot thank you enough. Victor's pretty damn cold in this chapter but considering the situation I can't say I blame him. Hope you enjoy, love you all!

Yakov was screaming down the phone to the police, Otabek was sat by Yurio’s side on a bench while Lilia stood nearby with her arms folded across her chest. Victor paced restlessly back and forth while a few other skaters looked on with worry in their eyes, Phichit had already told Yuri to get to the rink as soon as possible and he clutched his phone tightly in one hand as he waited for a reply. Chris finally let out a soft breath and went to Victor, taking him by the elbows to halt his mad pacing. He silently guided him to another seat and pushed him into it before handing him a cup of hot coffee from a nearby machine. Victor took it, cupping it between his hands but he didn’t drink. Yurio shivered, pulling at his sleeves as he tried to banish the memory of the other man’s lips against his. He had never kissed anyone before, not because he wasn’t interested exactly, simply because he was more focussed on skating. To have that moment ripped away from him without his compliance was highly distressing, he kept his head low as Yakov swore loudly and hung up his phone. “They were on break!” He snapped, glaring furiously at the wall. “Break during a time like this! Did no one think to have the officers on duty relieved by someone else?!”

“Utter incompetence.” Lilia agreed with her ex-husband, much to his surprise. “They put Yuri at risk, this is unacceptable. I will see my lawyers and see if we cannot make them pay.”

Yakov nodded sharply and turned to Yurio who was avoiding eye contact, “Yuratchka, tell me exactly what happened.”

Yurio glanced up at his coach then away again, hiding behind his hair. “He was outside the rink,” He began hesitantly but a light touch on his arm from Otabek gave him strength. “He grabbed me, stopped me from calling out and dragged me into the alley. He h-had a gun…” He swallowed and closed his eyes, taking a breath before continuing, “He told me to pass on a message to the pig.” He opened his eyes and met Victor’s who was looking at him intently, “He said to tell him to leave Russia and never come back…if…if he sees him again he will kill him.”

Victor was on his feet again even before Yurio had finished speaking, his mouth was drawn down into a harsh line and he thrust the un-drunk coffee into Chris’ hands. “I have to find Yuri.” He said but before he could move the doors swung open to reveal Yuri himself, he was panting from his run and he stepped through the doors. He pulled his ear buds out and frowned at the gathered skaters.

“What’s going on?” He asked uncertainly, eyes meeting Victor’s. “What happened?” His voice sharpened as he saw the distress on Victor’s face. Victor moved to him, taking him by the shoulders and pulling him into a tight, warm embrace. Yuri smelt exotic, like he always did. It was an indefinable smell, like spices and warmth.

“You need to go home.” Victor said into his ear, his voice rough and near breaking. “You need to return to Hasetsu.”

Yuri stiffened in Victor’s arms, “But the competition…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Victor drew away enough to look into Yuri’s large eyes; he brushed a sweaty strand of hair from his face and cupped it gently. “You are in danger here, Yuri and the last thing I want is to see you hurt.”

Yuri looked around the room at all the grave faces, “I can’t-”

“You should. It’s for your own good.” Yurio insisted, looking up at Yuri through his hair. “Ivanov was here about an hour ago.”

“B-But…but why? Why would I have to leave? Wouldn’t it make more sense for Victor to leave?” Yuri frowned, feeling as if everyone was trying to play some cruel practical joke on him. “He’s not after me-”

“You are the only thing standing between him and me.” Victor whispered hoarsely, “If I left with you he would only follow, I cannot hope to escape him. You…you can. He’ll lose interest in you the moment you set foot outside of Russia. Yuri please, I’m begging you! Until the police catch him go home.”

Yuri shook his head, frowning, “I’m not leaving you Victor!” he lifted his right hand where the ring flashed in the light. “We made a promise, remember? Don’t tell me to leave you now when you need me most. I’m not going home, not without you. And then there’s the competition, if I leave I forfeit, I’m not quitting! I’m not going to let some…some freak scare me from the things I love most in the world.” He flushed at the confession; it was the first time he had admitted out-loud and so blatantly that he loved Victor while sober. It wasn’t in his nature to go declaring it dramatically; it wasn’t in his cultural upbringing. However, he thought Victor needed to hear it now more than ever. He needed the confirmation of his feelings so Yuri pushed aside his nerves and stepped into Victor’s personal space. He looked up at him determinedly, grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him down so their foreheads touched. Their eyes met for a long, intense moment before Victor finally sighed in defeat.

“If this is what you truly want, Yuri…”

“Of course it is.” Yuri replied in a whisper.

Victor took his hands in his own, bringing them down so they rested between them. “Then we need to stay together, to keep each other safe.”

Yuri nodded, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a fat idiot.” Yurio grumbled, causing Otabek to ruffle his hair roughly in retaliation for his crude remark. Yurio kicked him back lightly in the shin. “But I guess it will make the competition much more interesting. I like kicking your ass to the top of the podium, Pig.”

Yuri laughed at that and started to make his way to the lockers, he dropped his bag to his feet and stripped off his jacket as calmly as he would have any other day. Inside, however, his guts were churning. All of the possibilities of what might happen kept intruding on his thoughts, he sighed heavily as he opened a locker and stuffed his shoes inside with the rest of the stuff he wouldn’t need immediately. The only thing they could do now was wait.

Yuri and Victor sat nervously in the seats as they watched Yurio take to the centre of the rink; he was lit by spotlights as the rest of the rink went dark around him. His costume shimmered blue and white and shifted with each movement like ripples on the sea, he lifted his arms and the music began.

“Russia’s sixteen year old Yuri Plisetsky, a prominent young skater with boundless talent who blew us all away when he won gold at his Senior debut and broke Victor Nikiforov’s world record. Today the music is Chopin’s piano concerto number one.”

Yuri looked on as the music filled the stadium and silenced the crowd, Yurio moved with his usual incredible grace. He entranced the entire audience easily, his body moving with all the perfection of a ballerina.

“His first jump is a triple toe loop…oh! He landed badly, but he’s up again.”

Yuri winced in sympathy and noticed Yurio’s movement’s stiffen with the knowledge he’d messed up. “Is he ok?” Yuri whispered to Victor who frowned in concern, leaning close to whisper in Yuri’s ear.

“He was…assaulted by Ivanov not long before you arrived.” He breathed, eyes on Yurio as he missed a step in his step sequence.

“A-Assaulted?!” Yuri’s eyes widened as Yurio flubbed yet another jump, he crashed into the barriers and the entire crowd gasped in horror. Yurio got to his feet, shaking his head rapidly as people began whispering nervously to each other. “What happened?”

Victor sighed, “Ivanov sees me in Yurio, perhaps because we have the same coach, I do not know. He accosted Yurio outside the rink when he was taking a break and threatened him with a gun.”

Yuri put a hand to his mouth as the music died; Yurio was on his knees as the rink went dark as if to hide his humiliation from the audience. “Is he injured?”

Victor stood up and grabbed Yuri’s hand, tugging him to his feet as they both ran down the stairs to get to the rink to see if Yurio was ok.

Yurio kept his head down, one arm around his waist as he managed to drag himself to his feet and slide clumsily to the edge of the rink where Yakov was awaiting him. He hadn’t completed his routine, unable to go on as images of Ivanov crowded his head, distracting him. He shuddered as Yakov pulled him onto firm ground and ushered him straight out of the doors and back to the changing rooms. Yurio said nothing as he sat down and hung his head in shame. He was hot and cold all over, despising himself for his failure. How was he ever supposed to look at anyone ever again? He was stupid. So, so stupid. All those jumps he had never had any trouble with before had suddenly seemed impossible, he felt like a four year old again, just learning how to move on the ice. It was as if his own body had turned against him. Someone draped his jacket over his shoulders but he refused to see who it was, people were talking, trying to ask him questions but it was all just noise. He put his head in his hands as his eyes burned, he was never more grateful for his long hair. A strong hand landed on his shoulder, he didn’t have the energy to shrug it off as someone sat at his side while Yakov unlaced his skates for him. He was too numb to even care that he was being treated like a baby.

“...Everyone will understand, Yuratchka. The judges won’t be able to give you a score but your fans will be sympathetic. It happens to everyone; try not to let it get to you…” Yakov’s lame platitudes had no affect on him, his eyes screwed shut and he felt his shoulders shake as he fought back his grief. He had lost. Lost in the worst possible way. “…Are you hurt? You must tell us if you’re injured, Yuratchka.”

Yurio ignored him. He ignored everyone.

“We all mess up, Yuri.” Otabek’s smooth, even voice replaced Yakov’s and the arm around his shoulders tensed and tugged him against Otabek’s warm side. “You’ll get up and move on, you’re a soldier. It’s what soldier’s do.”

Yurio sniffed, wiping his eyes roughly on the sleeve of his costume. He pushed Otabek off of him and rose, he picked up his bag and without a word he walked away. Yakov sighed heavily, scrubbing his hand over his face as he met Victor’s eyes. “Vitya, please.” He said quietly and Victor’s hands twitched, he took a breath and nodded.

“Yuri, I’ll be back before your turn.” He whispered to his lover, stroking hair from Yuri’s face and pressing a brief kiss to his cheek before he grabbed his coat and slipped it on. He followed Yurio out the door.

Yurio screamed the second he was a good enough distance away from the rink. Fuck his safety, fuck the world. He kicked out at a trash can, sending it toppling over and spilling its contents over the pavement. He pushed both hands into his hair and stifled another sob that wanted to escape, how could he have allowed something like Ivanov to distract him so badly? How had he let himself almost destroy his career like that? He choked back another scream and headed blindly down the road. He only came to a halt when he reached a small, empty park. He found a swing and sat in it, swaying back and forth as he gazed down at his unlaced trainers.

“It’s too dangerous for you to be out alone, Yurio.”

Yuri turned to see Victor standing by the swings, eyes lingering on the buildings lining the street opposite them. He leaned casually against the pole at his side and sighed. “What the fuck do you know? You always win! You’re a fucking god! You never make mistakes, Victor!”

Victor laughed softly, brushing hair from his face. There was a long pause before he spoke again; “Ivanov kept me prisoner for two weeks.” He whispered, the only way Yurio could hear him was by leaning closer. His eyes widened as he finally looked at Victor properly, the man looked beyond exhausted. It was as if he’d aged several years in the space of a few weeks. “I was a year younger than you are now, young and stupid. I fought the first time he-” Victor’s voice cracked and a smile twisted his lips, “The first time he tried to touch me. He tore my clothes from my body, whispering endearments obviously meant to be romantic.” Victor’s breath was shaky and he still refused to meet Yurio’s gaze but Yurio couldn’t look away, Victor was being vulnerable with him. He was opening up and it was the most difficult thing for him to do, exposing his past trauma like a festering wound and releasing all that rot for someone else to see. “I cried and screamed, bit and scratched but he was so strong. He bruised my body, marking me in ways so deep no doctor could remove them. Oh, he never raped me, if that’s what you’re thinking. No…he did other things, things he didn’t think would destroy my ‘purity’. He assumed that I was a virgin.” Victor laughed at that, a cold, mocking sound that set Yurio’s teeth on edge. “I was young and stupid and with fans all over the world begging to share my bed, of course I wasn’t a virgin.” Victor’s smile matched his voice, as cold and vicious as the ice he loved. A harsh winter wind snatched at Yurio’s hair and he shivered violently, however, he dared not interrupt Victor. “He chained me to a bed and every night he would come to my room and talk to me, tell me how we would live the rest of our lives together, how it was meant to be. He kissed me; I gave up on resisting eventually and resigned myself to it. He liked to brush my hair; in fact he seemed quite obsessed with it.” Victor lifted a hand to his head but his fingers never touched his hair, they lingered in the air a moment and Yurio could see how he shook. He swallowed, breathed and hung his head, closing his eyes as his hand dropped like a stone back to his side. “I thought I would be stuck there forever, I gave up hope. Every night I lay awake, wondering if tonight would be the night he would fuck me with or without my consent. This went on for days upon days, I lost count. Finally he took my apathy for compliance; he assumed I had accepted my fate to be his…he unchained me. That night I fled. I ran.” Victor finally met Yurio’s eyes and Yurio couldn’t look away, hooked on the story and the pain Victor had hidden so well for so many years. “I found my way to Yakov’s and fell into his arms, sobbing like a child. I clung to him desperately. A few months later at a minor competition I took a fall that could have ended my career right then and there, I was lucky that Yakov found me the best surgeons in the country in time. For months afterwards I was wreck, no amount of outside help could heal me…Eventually I cut off all my hair. I despised it by then, it only served to remind me of Ivanov’s touches. Every time I looked in the mirror I only saw an object, a thing; an empty doll to be worshipped and then thrown aside like trash. So I cut it all off, Yakov was horrified until he understood why I had done it.” Victor lowered his head and gazed down at his shoes as he scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his designer loafers. “I don’t know how I did it but somehow I erased it all from my memory, I never questioned why there were two years of my life missing and Yakov obviously had no wish to remind me of what happened…My point is Yurio, do not think that one mistake will end your entire career. You’re young still; you have your entire life ahead of you. Forget about Ivanov, he is no threat to you…I’ll make sure of that.” Victor pushed himself away from the pole he was leaning against and walked a few paces away, “You’re…not alone. Not like I was. You are surrounded by people who love you, Yuratchka, I have faith that you can overcome this. If I can, so can someone like you who is so much stronger. Come back with me to the rink, we can watch the others and support them.”

Yurio hesitated only a moment before he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and followed Victor obediently.

Yuri wasn’t sure if Victor had returned or not and he tried to banish it from his mind. The music soothed him and the muttering of the crowd became muted. His blades sang their own song as he danced with everything he had, throwing his arms wide, soaking in the music and the movement. He thought of the past few months with Victor, before Ivanov had resurfaced, before all his past pain had been dredged up. He smiled as his mind lingered on those sweet memories, of laying in bed until late in the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms. He focussed on the feel of Victor’s skin against his own, of the way Victor’s icy eyes melted when Yuri moaned his name. He thought of long baths together, his hands pushed deep into Victor’s hair as he rubbed soap into the silver strands, of the bubble fights they sometimes got into that usually ended in spilling half the bath water onto the tiled floor. Of being wrapped in fluffy towels while Victor ran a comb through his hair, of all those tiny, seemingly silly moments where they said nothing and merely lounged before the TV with Maccachin laying across both their laps. Memories of being in love and loved in return fuelled him as he made his first jump, he landed it perfectly, arms out for balance as he moved into a fast paced step sequence. His costume moved easily with him, flashing and sparkling like rubies beneath the heated lights and crowd applauded and cheered as his programme came to an end. He took his final pose, eyes automatically searching for Victor in the stands. He found him, standing with Yurio with a brilliant smile on his face. Yuri returned it helplessly as the world faded around him until it only contained the both of them.

The screams, at first, didn’t fully register as Yuri moved to take a bow. Flowers scattered the ice along with the usual food-based stuffed toys. He was about to pick some up when an incredibly loud bang cut through the noise of the crowd, he felt something burn white-hot in his side and his left foot slipped from beneath him. He fell to the ice with a gasp and looked up. The audience had scattered, revealing a man in a dark hoodie standing alone at the barriers. He had a gun clutched in one hand and Yuri felt terror clutch painfully at his heart, he stopped breathing as the pain in his side turned icy cold. He heard someone screaming his name, many voices all blurring painfully into one but he couldn’t look away from the large figure on the other side of the rink. His blood roared in his ears, his heart beat stuttering and pounding almost loudly enough to drown out the voices. He tried to stand but his knees were too weak to hold his weight, he found himself kneeling as the figure hopped the barrier and stood uneasily on the ice. All around Yuri the world blurred and distorted, his hands were numb now as the ice froze his fingers but he couldn’t lift them, his arms were too heavy, his breathing laboured and scratched painfully at his throat. The figure approached, throwing back its hood to reveal a face twisted in pain, tears streaming down the man’s face as he came to a halt a few feet from where Yuri knelt. When Ivanov lifted the gun, somehow Yuri knew he was about to die. The barrel yawned wide before his eyes until darkness encased the entire world, his breath stopped in his throat and time stood still. A hush fell over Yuri’s ears and all he could hear was his heartbeat, thundering desperately inside his chest as if it realised it was beating its last.

Ivanov said nothing as he pulled the safety on his gun, he merely stared down at his enemy and put pressure on the trigger.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I shall relieve you all! Lol. Sorry about that, it was kind of evil of me. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter though. I will note that strogonoff is one of my fave foods, if it wasn't so fattening I'd eat it all the time! Lol. Yum. I want some now, *sigh*. Also I will also apologise if anything is confusing, I was up most of yesterday night with my daughter who decided that she didn't need sleep so I'm not sure if it even makes any sense and I've likely made loads of mistakes. I hope you can look past these and enjoy anyway. As for the whole manor thing, I have no idea if Lilia and Yakov do live in a manor or if it was just the ballet school but I can just imagine them living in a massive, opulent house so in this it is a house. Lol.

A sudden, heart wrenching scream tore through the rink and shattered the silence that had descended. Victor leapt towards the ice but several pairs of strong arms held him back, he struggled as violently as he could, his elbow catching one of his captors in the nose. He didn’t care; he screamed Yuri’s name over and over until his throat was hoarse.

“Victor! Get a hold of yourself!” Chris’ rough voice somehow reached him through the red haze that had descended over him. “Think! Use your brain! If you go out there you’ll only make things worse.”

“I can’t leave him! Yuri! YURI!”

“Vitya, ple-”

The shot was loud. It echoed through the rink and silenced everyone. Victor froze, his eyes wide, hair falling in front of his face from where he had been struggling so violently. He saw Yuri lying on the ice. Something deep inside Victor shattered, it was like physical pain and it tore through his body from his chest and was released in a long, despairing wail. He dropped to his knees as sirens began to echo through the stadium from outside. Loud voices preceded a group of heavily armed police.

Ivanov looked up, breathing heavy as he searched for and found Victor. He knelt at the edge of the ice, his face a perfect picture of despair. Crystalline tears slid down his cheeks, cascading steadily over his pale skin to fall to the floor. The police were moving in so Ivanov stowed away his gun and made a run for it, he fled through the other exit and the police pursued him.

Victor took his moment; he leapt to his feet and skidded onto the ice towards his lover’s prone form. Keeping his balance was incredibly difficult but somehow he made it and fell to his knees beside Yuri. His crimson costume sparkled as Victor reached out a gloved hand and touched his face, his tears splashed onto Yuri’s chest and it took him a moment too long to notice the fact that it was moving steadily up and down. “Y-Yuri…Yuri…” Victor grabbed Yuri’s shoulders, lifting him into his arms and holding him tightly. He felt warm breath against his neck and released a sigh in the form of a sob. The pain in his chest eased somewhat as he wrapped his arms around Yuri’s torso and held him, something warm and wet soaked into his shirt and he moved away enough to look. The ice was covered in blood, Yuri’s costume was torn and through the sheer fabric Victor could see the large gash in his flesh. Victor lifted his eyes and saw a body just behind Yuri, a young girl in blue. Her dark hair had come undone from its smart little bun and the strands soaked up the blood staining the ice all around her. Ivanov’s first shot had missed and hit one of the girls who helped clean up the rink after a programme. Victor’s chest ached as a woman’s scream pierced the air, he couldn’t turn to look at the distraught woman. He held Yuri closer as medics arrived; someone placed a gentle hand on his shoulder while someone else tried to extract Yuri from his hands. “No.” He whispered, placing a kiss to Yuri’s forehead. “I won’t leave him.”

“Victor, they’re going to help him.”

Victor blinked as a hand pressed against the side of his face; he looked down into Yuri’s hazy eyes. More tears escaped to slide down his cheeks, splashing Yuri’s own face. “Victor.” Yuri whispered hoarsely, “…hurts.”

Victor let out a wet sounding chuckle as he finally allowed the paramedics to take Yuri from him, terror gave way to relief as he watched the men and women surround Yuri and lift him onto a stretcher. They carefully lifted him and started to carry him from the rink, Victor felt hands on him and he rose with their help.

“Come on, we’ll follow the ambulance.” Chris whispered in his ear as he helped Victor remain steady.

“S-Someone…should tell his family.” Victor mumbled, shock slurring his words as he let Chris steer him out the door and towards the changing rooms.

“That can wait. He’s alive, yes? That’s all that matters at the moment.”

“Vitya! Are you-”

Victor offered Yakov an exhausted smile, “I’m ok.” He said, stumbling a little as Chris set him down on a bench. “Ivanov missed…he must have hit that girl…I…” Victor took a shuddery breath and let it out, more tears slid down his face but he didn’t bother trying to stop them. Yakov had seen him cry a thousand times, he was the closest thing to a father he had ever had. “It was pain…made him faint I think…I was so…”

“Hush now, Vitya. We’ll get you home, you can stay with Lilia and I until Yuri is released from the hospital.” Yakov put a shaking hand on Victor’s head briefly before turning to Yurio who was shaking in a corner with Lilia’s arm around his shoulders. He was pale with fright, eyes wide and too bright as he watched the paramedics bring out a stretcher. On it was a body wrapped in a black bag. Silence followed the girl as she was taken to the ambulance, all eyes moved with her and Yakov removed his hat and lowered his head.

“She was the same age as me.” Yurio whispered, his teeth chattering as he wrapped his jacket further around himself. He lowered his head as Lilia escorted him from the building behind Victor and Chris. “She was a fan…she spoke to me before…before…I…I don’t remember her name…”

“Hush now, Yuri. It’s a tragedy but you cannot allow this to get to you, it was not your fault. None of us could have predicted this.”

“I just…” Yurio trailed off as they passed by a sobbing woman, obviously the girl’s mother. He shivered and let his head drop forward again, hiding the woman from sight. “She died. She died right there…”

“Yuri.” Lilia put an arm around him, guiding him gently towards several cars that awaited them. “We will discuss this when we get home.”

Yurio swallowed and nodded sharply, frowning at his feet as he climbed into the back of Yakov’s car. He glanced back before Lilia closed the door to see Victor pulled into an embrace by Chris, they seemed to be talking to each other but before he could wonder the door closed.

The waiting room was silent; Victor sat with his hands clasped between his knees and his head bowed. Chris encouraged him to drink some hot tea and it had calmed his racing heart, the doctors were all very friendly and had told him that all Yuri needed were stitches and he’d be ready to go home. However, he would not be able to finish the competition; he couldn’t risk re-opening the wound. They had to wait before Yuri was allowed visitors however and Victor could feel the remains of his terror, it tasted like ash in his mouth and every time he swallowed he could feel how dry his throat was from his screams. They still echoed horribly in his ears, he would never be able to forget that awful, empty feeling as he had watched Yuri fall to the ice like a marionette with its strings cut. Limp, unmoving…it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Mr. Nikiforov?”

Victor was on his feet in a second, eyes wide as the doctor smiled at him, “He can have visitors now.” He said, “However, only one at a time.” He looked at Phichit and Chris when he said this and the both of them nodded acquiescence. Victor followed the doctor after waving to Chris to let him know he would be fine, they went down a corridor to a private room and the doctor opened the door. Victor stepped inside to see Yuri sitting up in bed, legs hanging over the side. When their eyes met Victor felt an overwhelming, bubbling joy surge through him as Yuri gave him a rather weak smile. He stepped forward and yanked him into a tight embrace, however the doctor cleared his throat sternly and Victor relaxed his grip. Yuri let out a pained sigh and pulled away enough to look up into Victor’s face; he lifted one hand and caressed his face. “I was…so frightened.” Victor managed to whisper, hearing the doctor leave them alone. Yuri’s eyes moved down to Victor’s lips and he leaned forward. Victor accepted his kiss eagerly, pushing both hands deep into Yuri’s hair. “I thought you…I was…” He was hardly making sense, even to himself but Yuri nodded.

“I know. Victor, I’m sorry…”

“No. No it’s not your fault.” Victor muttered against Yuri’s lips, eyes scrunched closed and a small frown on his face. “It’s mine. I should have-”

“What? There’s nothing you could’ve done, Victor. I’m alive. That’s all that matters. I was lucky to get away with such a small wound, the doctor said that the gun’s aim was off…The bullet grazed me, that’s all. He…he also said something about a girl.”

Victor sighed, moving so he could press his lips to Yuri’s forehead. “Don’t worry about that now. Let’s just…go home.”

Yuri lowered his eyes, his hands curled tightly in Victor’s coat and he noticed that there was blood staining his shirt. He plucked at the material absently before sighing. “Sure. Let’s go home, Victor.”

Phichit and Chris were waiting for them when they got back to the waiting room, Yuri offered his best friend a wan smile as Phichit ran to him and flung his arms around him. His entire body was shaking with shock, “Don’t you dare try and do anything like that to me again!” He muttered in a shaking whisper, his voice was thick and he was obviously holding back tears. “You’re so lucky, Yuri. I thought…” He trailed off, pulling away enough to look into his friends face, “Well, doesn’t matter. You just focus on getting better, you understand? If I hear you’ve opened that wound again I’ll come and tie you down to the bed and make sure you stay there, ok?”

Yuri gave Phichit a small smile, “Yeah. I promise.”

“And I was really looking forward to competing with you, Yuri.” Chris moaned, pouting playfully as he put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “You’ve become such great competition.”

Yuri grimaced, “Yeah…sorry…” He looked down at his feet, clad in his trainers that Victor had brought with him from the rink.

“Now now, none of that. Like your friend said, get better and we’ll face each other again another time.” Chris raised a finger and tilted his head to the side with a wink, “I need someone to challenge my Eros, Yuri.”

Yuri laughed weakly, “I’ll make sure I’m back in top form next time, Chris.”

“You’d better. Now, Victor, get him back home and spoil him rotten. If you don’t I’ll hear about it and come steal him away from you.”

Victor’s arm tightened unconsciously around Yuri’s shoulders, he pulled him to his side and smiled. “Of course, I would never allow my Yuri to worsen his injuries. We’ll call you later.”

With that they left the hospital and caught a cab back to Yakov and Lilia’s place. Victor explained where they were going and that Yakov had plenty of room, however, Yuri was astounded when they pulled up onto a long drive way that led to huge manor house. His jaw dropped as Victor helped him from the cab and paid the driver before helping Yuri limp towards the massive wooden doors.

Yakov and Lilia, after making sure Victor and Yuri had everything they needed, left them alone in one of the guest bedrooms. There was a fancy en-suit bathroom with a bath large enough for two, a double four poster bed and a pair of massive wardrobes. The room was decorated lavishly in pale blue and lots of gold. Yuri was speechless as Victor set him on the bed, he sank a few inches into the plush mattress and admired the room while Victor started to run a bath.

“You can’t get your bandages wet but we can have a shallow bath to wash in, is that ok?” Victor called over the sound of running water.

“Uh…yeah…Thank you.” Yuri replied, eyes lingering on the bathroom door.

“I’ll have some dinner brought up too, you must eat something. Unfortunately I doubt the cooks know how to make katsudon.”

Yuri could only shake his head fondly, a small smile gracing his face as Victor appeared from the bathroom with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Already a strong perfume wafted from the room behind him and Yuri felt himself begin to relax. “Hmm…perhaps some stroganoff, yes? It was my favourite when I was a child.”

“Uh…yeah, sure.” Yuri replied quietly, lowering his head as he dug his fingers into the blankets covering the bed. “V-Victor?”

Victor was on his knees before him before Yuri could move; he took both his hands in his own and pressed a kiss to the ring on Yuri’s fingers. “What is it?”

Yuri took a shaking breath and finally met Victor’s eyes, his own filled with sudden tears and his face twisted as the days terrors finally caught up to him. “…I…I…”

“Shh, Yuri…oh Yuri…” Victor used his thumb to brush away some tears before lifting himself up and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “I almost lost you today.” He whispered, his voice breaking as tears of his own rose to his eyes. He blinked them away, causing them to fall onto their clasped hands. “I was…so scared. I’ve never…never known a feeling like it before. If I’d lost you…I don’t know what I would have done. I’m sorry…I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I couldn’t protect you. I-I-”

Yuri lifted their hands and kissed Victor’s ring before pulling him close, their arms wrapped around each other and they didn’t bother holding back their sobs. The shoulder of Victor’s shirt soon became damp, as did Yuri’s national team jacket. They held each other for a long while, crying and comforting each other, unable to speak or explain the tangled emotions they were holding inside. Finally Victor drew away, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “Come on, we both smell of blood.” He rose and pulled Yuri gently up.


	9. Chapter 9

_He was trapped in darkness, kneeling on the cold hard floor._

_“Oh Vitya, beautiful Vitya…”_

_He shuddered, unfamiliar fingers sliding through his long hair. He looked up from where he had buried his face in his hands, terror clutching at his heart as a bright spotlight came on with a too-loud click. It shone upon a form dressed in red, lying on blood-soaked ice. Victor’s heart thudded violently in his chest, he cried out as emptiness filled his lungs, driving out the air. He couldn’t breathe. He reached forward, his fingers stretching as he tried to reach for his lover but the hands in his hair tightened. The voice behind him deepened, became darker, more terrifying than ever… “_

_Do you not see? Do you not understand? We were meant to be, Victor! We belong together! I will never let you go! Never!” “_

_No…no…Please! Let me go! Let me go to him! H-He needs me! Yuri…Yuri…oh god, please…I’m b-begging you…do not take him from me!” “_

_Oh but Vitya, don’t you understand yet? He’s already dead.” Victor’s scream shattered the barrier between dream and reality…_

 

Yuri sat bolt upright, turning to where Victor was tangled in the sheets, sweating and muttering a long string of terrified Russian. He didn’t understand most of it but he was pretty sure his own name was in there somewhere, the scream made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and cold sweat break out over his skin. He looked down into Victor’s pale face, illuminated in moonlight that streamed through the large windows. Gently he took his shoulder and shook him. “Victor? Hey, Victor…Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Slowly, with a low, desperate moan, Victor’s blue eyes opened. He blinked blearily up at Yuri, the light glinting off of the tears caught in his lashes. He took several unsteady breaths before one shaking hand rose to cup the side of Yuri’s face. “Y-Yuri…” Victor breathed, his voice breaking and more tears slid unchecked down his cheeks. “Oh Yuri…I dreamed…I dreamed you were…”

“Shh, I’m not. I’m still alive, Victor.” Yuri replied heavily, he let Victor yank him down so his head was resting on his chest. Warm, slightly clammy hands threaded into his hair, smoothing it gently back from his face. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Try and go back to sleep, we both need it.” He muttered and Victor’s arms curled around him, holding him close.

Ivanov sat in the only chair in his apartment, he could see where the plaster was coming away from the walls and from inside his bathroom he could hear the steady drip drip from the tap. He sat with the gun in his lap, eyes on a crack in the wall that zig zagged between two photo’s of Victor. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong, he had had a perfect shot but somehow he had missed. It was ridiculous, how could he miss? He had hit a girl instead, her death was tragic but he didn’t blame himself. It was only one more thing to add to the large list of sins Yuri Katsuki had amassed. It had been several days since he had escaped the police, it was almost too easy. He could easily blend in with crowds and he never used his real name, his apartment was rented under another name.

He sighed and looked at one of the images of Victor; he was in bed, fingers curled in a head of dark hair that was situated in his lap. His head was thrown back over the arm of the chair, his face a perfect picture of ecstasy. Beside that image was another, this one was of Yuri and Victor kissing on Tuchkov bridge. It was a beautiful image with the sunset staining the sky crimson and gold behind them; their shadows entwined intimately and even from where Ivanov had stood to take the picture he could see the smiles on their faces. The image made him angry but he kept it to fuel his desire, looking at the picture of them kissing reminded him of why he had to get Victor away from the Pig’s greedy clutches. He had to find a way to remove Yuri from the picture; Victor belonged to him and no one else. He would make one last attempt to end the Piggy’s life, if that failed then the only option left to him and Victor was to die together. No one could separate them once they were in the cool embrace of the river. He smirked to himself as darkness seeped into his room, his lips peeling back to reveal his stained teeth. Yes, Yuri would die or he would kill himself and take Victor with him; either way, Ivanov would win.

Yuri looked down at the wound in his side, now a long red line interspersed by neat stitches. It was healing well according to the doctor who seemed very pleased with the progress. Yuri lifted his right arm as high as he could, feeling the wound stretch. He hissed a little as pain stabbed at his side and immediately lowered his arm again, he still wasn’t ready to start training again. Even light exercise was forbidden him, Victor insisted on babying him to the point where it was almost annoying. His injury wasn’t serious, it was healing and he was gaining more movement slowly but surely. But Victor was insistent that Yuri not make it worse and Yuri understood a lot of that had to with some misplaced guilt, so he allowed himself to be pampered. He let Victor fuss over him and he had to admit, a part of him was enjoying the attention however, it had been two weeks and already he was itching to get back on the ice. He wanted to feel the weight of the skates on his feet, hear the calming sounds as blades cut through the surface of the ice, he wanted to feel the short but giddy dizziness he got when he jumped or performed a spin. He wanted to hear the crowd clap and see Victor’s bright, effervescent smile as he completed a programme well. He sighed heavily and flopped back onto the bed, all this wealth surrounding him was surreal, he couldn’t quite get used to having actual servants and even a butler at his beck and call. He was so used to helping out his parents and sister at the onsen or helping Minako with her students or helping out Yuuko at her rink, that having people there to do all the stuff for him was strange. He wasn’t sure he liked it; he had been brought up with huge emphasis placed upon hard work so being able to have everything handed to him made him highly uncomfortable.

In contrast Victor seemed perfectly at ease in the environment. He revelled in the luxury of the estate, he issued orders with ease and was unbothered by scurrying servants. It had taken Yuri by surprise to learn that Victor had lived with Yakov and Lila from the age of ten, training at the rink and being home tutored. He had lived in the lap of luxury; it did explain his love for expensive things. He was very materialistic when he wanted to be, placing great importance on the way he looked and the name on the clothes he wore; Gucci, Armani, Versace and Louis Vuitton among others. Yuri was blown away the first time he saw Victor’s wardrobe, designer suits were only a tiny part of it. He had bags, shoes, ties, diamond encrusted watches, enough cologne to fill a perfume shop and even his socks were brand names. He couldn’t imagine having that much money or where Victor had got it all from. He had been too afraid to ask but had later found out that Victor’s parents had died when he was very young, leaving him with a fortune amassed over two generations. He had been brought up in a world of money, given every opportunity any young boy could hope for and he had been willing to throw it all away for skating. He had confessed one cold winter morning, as they lay in bed together, sweaty and sated, that his mother had been on the verge of disinheriting him completely before her untimely death. Yuri was still surprised by Victor, even two years after their first meeting.

“ _Yuri_?” Victor’s sing-song voice drifted through the bedroom door just before he opened it, he bore a tray in his hands and had a grin on his face. Yuri couldn’t help but return it as Victor moved to the bedside table and placed the tray on it before turning towards his boyfriend and taking his hand, kissing the knuckles. “Were you being naughty?” He smirked and sat at Yuri’s side, brushing his thumb casually over the spot he had kissed, their eyes met and Yuri was leaning forward before he could think about it. Their lips met in a small, brief little kiss and Yuri felt Victor’s smile widen. “Oh? Were you being _that_ kind of naughty?”

Yuri flushed and pulled away with a small smile, “No. I was trying to see how far I can stretch now.”

“ _Yuri_!” Victor exclaimed, eyes widening as he grabbed Yuri and turned him so he could inspect his injury. “You could have reopened your wound! What did-”

“Victor! I’m not a doll.” Yuri sighed, pushing Victor away a little and meeting his eyes. “I’m not as fragile as you seem to think. I’m not going to suddenly keel over if I happen to move too fast, just relax. I’m healing, I’m better than I was.”

Victor’s face twisted a little before he sighed in defeat, “I know, Yuri. I just…I worry.”

“Yes, I worry about you too. You haven’t been sleeping.” He curled his fingers around Victor’s and held his hand, their rings flashed beneath the glass chandelier above their shared bed. He lifted his free hand and used his fingers to brush Victor’s hair from his eye; he looked into that beautiful blue and noted the dark smudges beneath them. “Have you seen anyone about-”

Victor broke eye contact, smiling as he hid his face from Yuri with his hair. He released his hand and rose, moving to the tray and lifting a pretty little tea pot as he poured them both tea. “Well, you’re better and that’s good…maybe we should do something?” He paused a moment as he added sugar to his bone china tea cup, Yuri noticed the small shake in his hands as he worked. “I know! Let’s go to the beach together, we can take Maccachin, he’s been dying to go somewhere. The gardens are huge but he misses-”

“Victor.” Yuri’s voice was soft but the tone cut through Victor’s babbling like a knife, the tiny silver sugar spoon clattered as he let it fall from his fingers onto the tray.

“Yuri…I…I don’t want to go see someone. I used to…after…after it happened but I…” He swallowed and put one hand to his face, hiding his expression. “It didn’t work. I didn’t…remember anything. I don’t want to talk about…it…”

Yuri rose carefully, moving to Victor’s side and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. He rested his head between Victor’s shoulder blades and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to push you but…but maybe now it would better if you saw someone. You know, even if it’s just the once. You could at least…try…?” Victor’s hands found Yuri’s at his stomach and he gripped his wrists tightly, “I’m ok. I’ve got you.”

“Am I enough?” Yuri’s voice dropped almost too low but Victor heard.

“There’s only you, Yuri.” Victor turned in Yuri’s arms and brought his hands up to cup his face, they looked into each other’s eyes intently. “You’re the one who can heal me, I know it.”

“But I-”

“Hush, let’s just…pretend…for a while, that nothing’s happened. I want to forget for a while.” Victor’s pain shone in his eyes and Yuri’s will weakened, how could he say no to him? Finally Yuri nodded and Victor’s smile replaced the shadows on his face as he held Yuri still so he could claim his lips, his tongue snaking out to run slowly over Yuri’s bottom lip. Yuri opened automatically and sighed when their tongues met. Victor walked him backwards to the bed and pushed him gently onto it, Yuri bounced with the mattress and lifted himself up onto one elbow as he reached out with his free arm to tangle his fingers in Victor’s hair. He dragged him up his bare chest to reclaim his lips, legs opening to allow Victor to place himself in between them. Yuri was clad in only his tracksuit bottoms, even his feet were bare but Victor was dressed in a white shirt and beige trousers. Yuri decided those had to go when Victor trailed his nails lightly down his spine, he arched into his boyfriend with a soft gasp before struggling with his shirt. Victor chuckled lightly, nipping at Yuri’s bottom lip to get him to whine petulantly before he brought his hands to his shirt and started to unbutton it. Yuri watched in awe as Victor revealed his body, one button at a time. He had seen it uncountable times by now but every time it was like the first, he was still amazed by how beautiful Victor was as he revealed pale, unblemished skin with two lovely pink nipples surrounded by very fine and pale hair. Yuri met Victor’s eyes and smiled, wrapping both his arms around Victor’s neck and dragging him down to his lips again. He trailed soft, biting little kisses over Victor’s jaw, noting the soft bristles from where he hadn’t shaved that morning. Slowly he worked his way to the sensitive spot beneath Victor’s ear and pressed the flat of his tongue there; listening with pride at the soft sound that escaped Victor’s parted lips. It was fascinating to Yuri, that he, the average boy from some backwater town by the sea could make The Victor Nikiforov make those beautiful sounds. It still made him wonder if he was dreaming whenever Victor would look at him and admire his body with eyes that almost literally smouldered, it was surreal and wonderful and Yuri never wanted to wake up if it really was a dream. “Yuri…” Victor whispered, running his hands down Yuri’s sides to rest at his hips. “Take these off.”

“Mm, Victor…” Yuri sighed against the dip of Victor’s throat, eliciting a soft giggle from him. It hadn’t taken Yuri long to work out that Victor was actually quite ticklish when you hit the right spots, his neck being one of his most sensitive places. He loved hearing Victor giggle, the sound was so carefree and almost childish. He nipped at a spot on Victor’s collar bone, turning the giggle into a raspy kind of groan before he flopped backwards and shoved his thumbs into the waist band of his trousers. He met Victor’s gaze and smirked as he yanked them down in one fluid movement, his side twinged a bit but he ignored it in favour of grabbing Victor’s belt and tugging it roughly open. He then attacked the zip with the same sharp motions before Victor was able to slide out of his trousers. Yuri took in a sharp breath as he noted Victor’s total lack of underwear. “Nnn, I love you.” He whispered and Victor laughed a bright, beautiful sound that was better than any aphrodisiac Yuri had heard of. “You’re so easy to please, Yuri.” Victor slid down Yuri’s body, tasting his skin as he went and happily listening to Yuri’s groans above him. When he lifted his hands up he felt Yuri’s fingers entwine with his own, with a kiss placed on Yuri’s right hip he moved to take his erection into his mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell that took way long than I wanted it to. Ugh. I'm sorry about the stupid delay, my mother was staying over for a while and I hurt my back and loads of other things kept happening...it's been hectic. Anyway, sorry it's short but I didn't want to keep you lovely people waiting any longer so here it is...a new chapter. Enjoy. I will add that I'm sorry if the sex is a bit...off...but I didn't want to write full on filth (which is what I normally do), it's more 'making love' but I actually really dislike romance (it makes me feel squicky) so I tried but it's probably horribly written, lol.

By the time Victor had spent a good long time preparing Yuri their kisses had devolved into sloppy, wet ones. Victor’s fingers were slick with lubrication as they rested lightly against the inside of Yuri’s thigh; he gently nudged Yuri’s legs apart and arranged himself in between them. He took a moment to lift Yuri’s legs so they were pressed against his chest and looked down at his lover, admiring the way his muscles stretched and the light sheen of sweat covering his dark toned skin. He looked divine and Victor could not think of a better, more erotic sight. He pressed his erection into Yuri’s body, revelling at the soft exhale of air that left Yuri’s lips. Victor closed his eyes, doing nothing but simply feel. His fingers dented Yuri’s skin, likely leaving bruises behind but neither of them particularly cared in that moment. It was easy to forget just how wonderful making love to Yuri was, Victor couldn’t get enough of him. He heard a soft groan and his eyes opened to find Yuri looking up at him, his eyes glazed with pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his glasses sitting wonkily on his face. Victor smiled and pushed himself further until he was fully seated, Yuri arched his back, fingers curling in the bed spread. He muttered Victor’s name, repeating it until his accent blurred the syllables into meaningless nonsense. Gently Victor plucked Yuri’s glasses from his face, tossing them casually onto the nightstand where they lay forgotten almost immediately afterwards. Yuri lifted his arms and wrapped them firmly around Victor’s shoulders, lifting his hips up and hissing softly into Victor’s ear as they began to move together in an age old rhythm.

It was beautiful, even in the midst of passion Yuri seemed to make music with his body. His cries and curses only adding to the overall melody, Victor snapped his hips forward just to hear more of his name falling like satin from those lips. Lips he claimed as often as possible as they moved. In those long minutes they were one, they were connected in a way Victor had never been with anyone else. He could see his soul reflected back at him in Yuri’s beautiful brown eyes and he was always surprised to see that it didn’t scare him, not like it had with so many others. Being vulnerable with another human being was difficult, almost impossible for Victor but with Yuri it never seemed to matter. They always met each other half way, even in this.

Yuri halted their movements, kissing Victor deeply with both his hands pushed deep into silver hair. When he pulled away he managed to flip them both over so he was on top, he gave Victor a smirk and leaned back on one hand, giving him an excellent view as he began moving himself at a brisk pace. His hair was slicked back with sweat, it trickled down his chest in slow rivulets and Victor reached out to palm his leaking cock. Yuri groaned aloud, his head falling back to reveal the beautiful arch of his neck. Victor continued to run his hands over Yuri’s body, moaning his name in between guttural grunts. “V-Victor…” Yuri shuddered, his body tightening and Victor grabbed his hip in one hand while the other continued to glide over his erection.

“It’s ok. You can come, Yuri.” Victor groaned in Russian, but Yuri seemed to understand and he cried out as white painted their stomachs.

Afterwards they lay together tangled in the sheets, sleepy and satisfied. Yuri’s fingers twisted with Victor’s, their rings glinting beneath the lights. Victor breathed deep where his face was pressed against Yuri’s throat, a small smile of utter satisfaction on his face. He ran a thumb over the fleshy part of Yuri’s hand and sighed contentedly, kissing Yuri’s sweaty shoulder and causing him to grin sleepily at him. Their eyes met and after a second so did their lips, Victor used his free hand to thread his fingers through Yuri’s hair as he pushed his tongue past Yuri’s lips and teased his tongue. When they pulled away their noses brushed and they closed their eyes.

“Victor?”

“Mm?”

“We should at least wash before we fall asleep.” Yuri groaned.

“Don’ wanna.” Victor replied sulkily. “I like smelling of Yuri.”

Yuri giggled, swatting him hard on the backside, “In that case next time I can do you and not let you wash after.”

Victor cracked open an eye and groaned, holding onto his lover tightly. “But Yuuuuuriiiii…”

“No buts. We’re showering before bed, c’mon.”

He somehow managed to drag a reluctant Victor out of bed and into the shower. Afterwards they returned to bed, switched the lights off and curled up together; arms firmly around each other as they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A few days passed before Yuri brought up the conversation about a psychiatrist to Victor again, it did not go down well.

“I'm fine, Yuri.” Victor insisted as they walked through the stunning ornamental gardens surrounding the mansion. He paused beneath a gazebo, the roof heavy with freshly fallen snow. Yuri sighed, breath coming out as steam from his lips, he cupped his elbows with his hands, even through the thick mittens he could feel the bite of the cold. “I don't know why you're so worried.” Victor smiled and his eyes drifted from Yuri's flushed face to where Makkachin bounced excitedly through the snow drifts, his smile softened easily into a genuine one.

“I'm worried because the nightmares are getting worse, I know you don't sleep Victor. I can feel it when you get up in the night.”

“Makka!” Victor dropped to his knees with his arms spread wide, inviting his dog into them. Makkachin looked up at him, ears out and a dollop of snow resting precariously on his snout. He sneezed, shaking all over so snow sprayed across the lawn before he bounced over to his master and into his arms. Yuri watched Victor bury his face in Makkachin's fur, hiding again.

“It won't do any good to ignore this...I'm worried about you.” Yuri persisted, allowing his pain to enter his voice in an attempt to get Victor to stop running from the issue. “Ivanov is still out there, we don't know when he'll strike next or if he will...everything's so uncertain, it's understandable that you're hurting-”

“Stop.” Victor's voice was colder than ice and it made Yuri's back stiffen, his eyes widened as Victor released Makkachin and rose to his feet. He kept his head low, avoiding Yuri's gaze. “I refuse to speak of this anymore.” His accent thickened in his distress, placing harsh emphasis on the words. “All you do is nag, nag, nag...I can't take it. I'm going out.”

“V-Victor...? Victor wait-” Yuri made to follow him but Victor came to an abrupt halt, he held up his arm in a gesture that said 'don't'. Yuri's feet failed him as something terrible curled inside his gut, he watched helplessly as Victor stepped up to the back door and yanked it open. His heart ached, his guts felt too heavy and his heart hammered violently in his chest. He swallowed, his throat clicking as it dried up. His vision wavered as tears filled his eyes but he didn't allow them to fall, not out here where anyone could see. He took a shuddery breath, recognising the ache, the emptiness and knew he had to get somewhere safe before he collapsed. He shuffled to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the heat of the kitchens. The dark, niggling little voices in the back of his head followed him up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Victor. They never went away but somehow Victor always managed to drown them out, it was like Victor was a blanket, able to muffle their intensity and make them far easier to ignore. This time, however, there was no Victor. His heart skipped, and he gasped, just managing to slam the door shut as he dived into a corner and drew his legs into his chest. The tears fell then as he shoved his hands into his hair, the mittens had slipped off as he walked and he had no idea where they had gone. He started to rock back and forth, fighting off the voices as they tried to tell him that he'd finally done it. That he had driven Victor away for good. It had always been too good to be true, Victor was an amazing human being with more talent in one little finger than Yuri had in his entire body. All it had taken for Victor to realise how truly pathetic Yuri was were a few misplaced words. Was he nagging? He hadn't thought so but maybe he had been. Maybe he had been putting too much pressure on Victor, especially considering everything he had been through. The terror in his eyes still haunted Yuri whenever he remembered opening his eyes to find Victor holding him after being shot. He had been so stupid, if he had left when Victor had told him to none of this would have happened. If Yuri had never skated Victor's 'Stay Close To Me' programme he would never have come flying to Hasetsu. If he had never gone to the stupid banquet Victor would never have started this journey with him and his stalker would have no reason to be jealous and start trying to kill people. It was Yuri's fault. All Yuri's fault. He fucked up everything he did, he was always so stupid. He had known from the moment Victor turned up that he was going to ruin everything, it had only taken longer than he'd first thought.

Yuri had no idea how long he had sat there for but finally the shadows receded from his vision and his heart slowed enough for him not to feel quite so suffocated. He stood on shaking knees and looked blearily around the room before spotting his own suitcase sitting beside the closet door. He walked over to it and flung it open, moving automatically to the draws and emptying it of his stuff. Victor didn't need him, that much was obvious. Yuri had to leave, he would leave and Ivanov would stop hurting innocent people. With him out of the picture Ivanov would have no reason to be posessive over Victor, he would no longer be threat. Yuri made up his mind as he zipped up his suitcase with a frown. His bottom lip trembled as he stepped back and looked at it, it lay at his feet like a dead animal and for a moment he was too terrified to move. Then he regained control of his traiturous limbs and snatched up the handle, it extended with a satisfying snap and Yuri dragged it to the door. There was no going back now. Victor had allowed him to live in a dream, a wonderful, perfect dream but now it was over. All he was doing was hurting him, he couldn't bare it anymore. As he made to step out the door the light caught his ring, he froze again as agony rose to his throat, choking him like bile. Two tears escaped his eyes and he blinked them away as he slowly slipped the gold band from his finger.

“ _It sounds just like a marriage proposal.”_

Yuri took a shaky breath as he remembered the moment Victor had returned to him after Makkachin's accident. He hadn't denied it because that had been exactly what it was and Victor's acceptance of it had made his heart ache with joy. Even more so that Victor had recognised the proposal for what it was, especially considering westerners proposed in a far more obvious manner. It had taken him a little while to remember that westerners exchanged rings and longer to find out that Russian's wore theirs on the right hand, but when he had he had been determined to get one for Victor and himself. He didn't speak of it as anything more than a 'good luck charm' and it was that but to Victor and himself, it meant so much more. It was a symbol of their devotion to one another, it was a gift in honour of their friendship and of their burgeoning relationship. It was such a small thing yet it was worth Yuri's family hot spring, Ice Castle and so much more. Yuri's breath hitched as he held the ring in the palm of his hand, tears blurred his vision as he let the tiny thing fall from his hand and hit the carpet. He backed away a pace, then another and another as he fought hard with himself not to go back and pick it up again. For once in his life he wouldn't be selfish, for once he would do what was right and remove himself from Victor's life forever. It was better that way, Victor was free to do whatever he wanted. Yuri swallowed, took one last glance back at the ring lying on the plush carpet before tearing himself away from it. He shut the door quietly behind himself and lowered his head, walking away on unsteady legs.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather intense chapter here, lots of emotions. I had to cut it off when I did because i was worried it might be too much all in one go. I wrote it to 'Tales of a Sleeping Prince' and the sadder bits to 'Say something I'm giving up on you'...in case you wanted mood music. Anyway, enjoy friends, I do hope it's up to my usual standards because frankly it's like gone midnight now and I'm beyond exhausted (my daughter's run me ragged today). Thank you all so much for sticking with me so far, I hope the last chapter after this will tie everything up neatly enough for you!

It was cold. Victor shivered violently, tugging his coat tighter around himself as he trudged down the street, he kept his head low to avoid alerting any potential fans and walked with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His scarf was wrapped firmly over the bottom half of his face and he watched his boots track dirty snow across the tarmac. Yuri's hurt expression intruded on his thoughts but he forced it away, angrily cursing in his native language as he tried to vent his frustration. He knew Yuri meant well, he also knew he had overreacted, but he couldn't stop himself. He had too much pent up energy, anger was bubbling beneath the surface and he couldn't settle. He came to a halt outside a dingy little bar, he pulled down the scarf and entered. It didn't take long for the barman to recognise him, however, the man was discrete and merely pushed a glass of some strong spirit towards him. Victor sat down at the glass-topped bar and tossed the drink down his throat before indicating he wanted a re-fill. The man obliged in respectful silence.

He drank until the world turned fuzzy before rising, tossing some money onto the bar and leaving again. He swayed gently, meandering back and forth as he walked through the streets, not consciously aware of where his feet were taking him. Somewhere someone was playing Tchaikovsky's Symphony number six, in its fourth movement. Victor paused, eyes moving up to the apartment building to his right. He saw someone's window open a crack, the music was loud enough to be heard over the drone of traffic. He closed his eyes and sighed, head dropping again. Already he was seeing a pattern inside his minds eye, seeing a powerful, moving step sequence. He opened his eyes again, a fire burning inside him he hadn't felt for too long. Not since first meeting Ivanov made his reappearance. He abruptly took off, running down the street, dodging around pedestrians as he raced back to Yakov and Lilia's, he needed to use the ballet studio as the rink would be closed.

Yuri's toes dragged as he pulled his case behind him, his eyes remained downcast and occasionally he bumped into someone and had to apologise profusely. He drifted down the snowy streets, barely noticing where he was going until he happened to look up and found himself on Tuchkov bridge. He blinked away snow as it clung to his eyelashes and moved to the railings, his hands curled around them as he let his case fall beside him with a thud. The frozen metal burned his skin but he didn't let go, only holding tighter as he tipped his head forward to see if he could see the water below. Behind him cars passed by, their lights casting distorted shadows over the pavement. Victor had told him that somewhere in St. Petersburg there was a bridge where couples went called the kissing bridge, he had told him he'd take him there someday but then Ivanov had come and destroyed those romantic plans. Yuri sighed, eyes closing, head low as he gripped the railings tight enough to make his knuckles go white. He shuddered as a sob tore itself from his throat. This very bridge had been the first place Yuri had told Victor he loved him. He remembered the sheer joy in Victor's eyes, the way his entire body had exuded happiness as he had grabbed Yuri and dragged him into a tight embrace. It had taken a lot of courage for Yuri to speak those three little words, even in English. He and his family were never that blatant with their affections, they expressed them in actions over words but he had dredged up the courage from somewhere and told Victor the truth with all the honesty he could muster. Yuri could still hear Victor gasp his name, they way his blue eyes had turned incandescent, the way the sun turned his hair gold and copper as it had set behind them. And then...the kiss. Better than any other they had shared before that moment, even better than the surprise kiss on the ice. Yuri felt scolding tears slip down his cheeks, turning them pink as he let out another keening sob. He tried to stifle it in the sleeve of his coat but it didn't stop the shudders racking his body. Finally his knees gave way and he hit the cold ground with a thud, the only thing keeping him upright was his hand still glued to the railing. He could no longer see through his tears, his chest ached with pain and the emptiness of losing the only person he had ever truly loved.

Yurio knocked again on Victor's bedroom door, cursing when it didn't open. He glared at it, angry that he was being ignored. Finally he shouted; “I'm coming in!” And opened the door with enough force to send it banging against the wall, he stepped in and looked around in confusion. No one was there. He had searched the manor from top to bottom and even gone to check the ballet studio, but neither Yuri nor Victor were anywhere to be found. He moved into the room, noting with some trepidation that the draws had been opened and a few socks lay desolately on the floor. He stepped forward but something hard pressed into the sole of his foot, through his sock. He lifted his foot and looked down to see a golden ring. He bent at the waist and picked it up, holding it up to the light and inspecting it. Inside was an inscription; '勇利', Yurio recognised it from seeing the piggy sign documents. It seemed highly unlikely that Yuri had dropped it and not noticed, something heavy settled in Yurio's gut and he turned, taking one last look at the empty draws before leaving the room to go in search of Yakov.

Victor stepped in through the large doors of the manor, removing his scarf and coat and handing them to the butler, he straightened out his wind-swept hair and moved down the hall to the sweeping stair case. As he mounted the steps he heard someone call his name, turning he saw Yakov and Yurio standing in the doorway to the drawing room.

“Vitya, we need to talk.” Yakov said in a voice that suggested no room for argument.

“But I-”

“This is important.” Yakov's face was grave and it made Victor's gut twist unpleasantly, he took a breath and followed them.

Yakov waited until Victor was in the drawing room before lifting his hand, in his palm sat a golden ring. Victor gaped at it, knowing what it was and what it meant but somehow unable to process it. His chest seemed to tighten painfully as his heart came to an abrupt halt, his throat closed over even as his arm rose without conscious thought. He held his hand out, barely aware that it shook and Yakov dropped the ring into his palm. He stared at it. Unable to look away.

“He cleared out all his stuff.” Yurio muttered, disgust heavy in his voice as he stood with his arms folded across his chest. “His suitcase was missing. Fucking piggy ran away like a coward.”

Yakov slapped him roughly upside the head and sent him a glare, Yurio winced and rubbed the back of his head but he got the point and fell quiet.

“...no.” Victor said finally, his voice breaking even as he tried to deny the truth. “No. He wouldn't...he...he couldn't...I...”

“Vitya-”

“No. I don't...I won't believe it!” Victor shook his head, hair falling in front of his face as he curled his fingers around the ring and put it in his pocket. “This isn't like Yuri. He would n-never...never d-do this-I...” Victor took a sharp breath and looked up, eyes wide and full of desperation. “ _Yakov_...” Victor was pleading, desperate for anything that would deny the obvious.

Yakov grimaced, “All the evidence suggests that Katsuki has left. To what purpose I can't tell you, Vitya.”

“At least the stupid fatso had the decency to leave the stupid ring, you can sell them.” Yurio spat, his own eyes gleaming in a way that they rarely did. He turned away, sniffing discretely before he simply walked away and left Victor alone with Yakov. Victor let his knees give way and he slumped into the sofa, he pushed both hands deep into his hair and closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the inevitable tears. He felt as if he was falling into a deep pit, there was no way out and it was pitch black. He took breath after breath but nothing eased the lump in his chest. He felt his eyes burn savagely and he managed to swallow a sob, somewhere above them there was a crash and a rage-filled scream. Yakov sighed and closed his eyes briefly before moving to Victor and placing a gentle hand on his head.

“It will get easier.” He muttered before walking away, he had to make sure Yurio didn't destroy the entire mansion.

Slowly Yuri managed to climb unsteadily to his feet, he blinked away the vestiges of his tears. He was certain he had more to come but for now he couldn't cry anymore. It was dark, he would need to find a hotel somewhere, he had to hope he could find someone who spoke English. He sighed shakily and made to pick up his suitcase only to find it wasn't there, a splash made him jerk upright and his eyes widened as he found himself staring at a large man dressed in a long trench coat. All the hair on Yuri's neck stood on end and he backed away, coming to a halt when he felt the cold press of metal against his spine. He was trapped against the railings as the man moved into the orange light of a street lamp, his grin twisting his familiar face. “I-Ivanov...” Yuri breathed, the name coming from his lips in the form of smoke.

Ivanov said nothing, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a pistol and pointed it directly between Yuri's eyes. They stood there facing each other for a long time before the silence was broken by Yuri's phone. The ring tone was recognisable as the one he used for Victor, the music for his Yuri on Ice programme from the previous years Grand Prix. He swallowed, fingers twitching with the old habit of answering any call from Victor. However Ivanov closed the gap between them and reached into Yuri's pocket before he could. He withdrew the phone and looked at the name in English; Victor. He smirked and tapped the screen, bringing the phone to his ear as he continued to stare at Yuri and keep the gun trained on him.

“Yuri! Yuri, where are you? Look, I'm sorry I was cruel to you...I was...angry but mostly at myself, at my own weakness. Please, I'm begging you with everything I've got to come home to me. Come home and we can talk. I just...I can't go through this without you. I need-”

“Yuri's somewhat occupied, Vitya.” Ivanov interrupted Victor's desperate pleas, his smirk widening as Yuri gasped. “Don't worry though, my love, he is soon going to be gone from this world. We will be able to be together soon, do not fear my beautiful angel.”

“...I-Ivanov...” Victor's voice was hoarse and thick, as if he had been crying. “...W-where...? Where is he?! Tell me where you are you twisted fuck!”

Yuri could hear Victor shouting, although he was speaking Russian so fast Yuri couldn't even make out the few words he did know. He only heard the utter agony in his lovers voice and it tore into his heart like a sword. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back as he waited.

“He is going to make a new life with the fishes, Vitya. With him gone we will be able to be together, when he's dead I will come for you, my sweet.” Ivanov hung up, cutting off Victor's near-hysterical voice and he dropped the phone to the ground. Yuri opened his eyes as Ivanov pressed the gun against his forehead, freezing cold metal burning through his skin. Yuri's legs quivered, he bit down hard on his cheek to prevent a whimper from escaping as he closed his eyes tightly and prepared for the end.

“Is he that precious to you, piggy?” Ivanov crooned, delight shining in his dark eyes. He dragged the gun down Yuri's face, using it to tip his head one way then the other, as if admiring him. “Hm, You do look pretty in certain lights but other than that I cannot see what Vitya thinks he sees in you. You are not special, you are not loveable. So...why? Why would he throw away a beautiful career for someone so...plain?” Ivanov used his free hand to open Yuri's coat, he slid frozen fingers underneath his heavy jumper to touch the defined muscles on his stomach. Yuri gasped, curling inwards, trying to move away from the touch but Yakov raised the gun and hit him with the butt, sending Yuri falling sideways to the concrete. He landed on his hand and elbow, wincing in pain. His glasses slid from his face to shatter on the floor and the taste of copper and salt filled his mouth. He spat, clearing the blood from his tongue.

“Perhaps you are not as fat as I first imagined...but you are still not Victor's equal.” Ivanov watched coolly as Yuri tried to climb back to his feet, when he managed to reach his hands and knees Ivanov grinned and lifted his foot. He slammed the heel of his army issue boot between Yuri's shoulder blades sending him sprawling once again. Yuri smashed his nose into the ground, causing blood to gush. The impact momentarily stunned him and he was unable to fight back as Ivanov placed one knee on his back, holding him down as one would a rabid dog. He curled his fist in Yuri's hair and yanked his head right back, exposing his throat. Yuri whimpered then, baring bloodied teeth in a snarl of pain, his hands flew up to try to pry the fingers from his hair but Ivanov simply used his grip to smash Yuri's face into the concrete twice in quick succession. Yuri went limp, his vision blurred and turned grey then black. His hands twitched and his breath came in ragged gasps. Ivanov released him, moving back and kicking him in the side, forcing a cry from his lips as he tried to roll away from the pain. He coughed, curling in on himself as he cradled his side with his hands. Again the boot came, slamming into his stomach, into his ribs. He felt one crack and tried to scream but no sound came out, the pain took his breath away and rendered him useless. Ivanov was relentless, seemingly intent on beating Yuri half to death before shooting him and ending his agony.

After a moment Yuri risked glancing up through his hair, panting, a string of blood sliding from his lips as it mingled with his saliva. He blinked sluggishly, his eyes moving to some point beyond Ivanov's left shoulder. A car had pulled up...now a blurry figure was running...Yuri's ears rang and he was unable to hear anything but Ivanov turned at some kind of noise. The figure smashed into Ivanov, sending him flying back into the railings, his gun soared into the air and landed a few inches from Yuri's right hand.

Victor spotted a small figure curled on the ground of the bridge, looming over him was someone painfully familiar. He had been lucky that Yakov had got contacts in the police to trace Yuri's phone, it didn't take long to find his location. The taxi came to a halt and Victor leapt from the car, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He ignored the drivers angry shouts as he watched Ivanov kicking the figure on the ground, Victor knew who it was and the sight infuriated him. He couldn't help calling out his name, it fell so easily from his lips. Ivanov turned, spotted Victor and his eyes had time to widen before he was on him. Victor's fist hit him in the jaw, sending him falling back against the railing. Ivanov looked stunned at the sheer force of the blow but Victor had been skating for most of his life, it had hardened his muscles to rock and Yakov had taught him how to use them. He hit Ivanov again before he had a chance to recover, grabbing him by the front of his coat and lifting him bodily off the ground. He slammed Ivanov against the railings and pushed him back far enough that he was leant precariously over the rushing river far below. Victor had no words available to him, he simply spat into Ivanov's shocked face and released him.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Final chapter my friends! I cannot thank you enough for your patience with this. I've been so busy with a sick child and all that comes with making sure the house is vaguely presentable (it's not...) it's been hell. However, I reward you all with the finale! I do hope it's up to your expectations, if not I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I may have made or it's all too confusing or whatever. Thank you all again for taking the time to read and comment and kudos this little project of mine, I never expected such an incredible response to be honest. I'm so very grateful!
> 
> ...Ok, ok...so I may add an epilogue. But other than that it's done. Finished. That's it. :D

Yuri watched. Victor and Ivanov were highlighted in orange from the street lamps, their shadows stretched out around their feet and swayed with their struggling bodies. Ivanov had handfuls of Victor's coat, a snarl of fury plastered across his face. He was overbalanced and dragging Victor with him. Yuri's eyes moved slowly to the gun, inches from his right hand. He felt the cold metal beneath his finger tips and curled his fist around the grip. His rib shot pain down his side but he grit his teeth against it, lifting the weapon up and taking aim at the man trying to murder his boyfriend. He remembered, as if from someone else's past, going to a place in America that taught him to fire a gun. He hadn't liked it and had only gone the once, on some of his classmates insistence. He remembered being told how to grip it, how to aim and he found himself moving without much thought.

Victor toppled backwards, the only way he was able to avoid being dragged off of the bridge, Ivanov fell on top of him and he winced as he slammed the back of his head against the concrete. He lay there, stunned and dazed as Ivanov loomed above him. Large, meaty hands curled around Victor's throat and choked off his breath. Victor grasped Ivanov's wrists and tried to pry him off. Fat, glistening tears streaked Ivanov's face as he straddled Victor and looked into his eyes. “I loved you, Vitya. I loved you and you...you betrayed me! We could have been together! We could have b-been happy! Why would you choose the pig over me? What's he got that I don't? Tell me Vitya! T-Tell me why?!” His fingers tightened like vices, Victor's vision blurred. He tried to buck the heavy man off of him but he wouldn't budge. Pain flared in his throat where Ivanov gripped him. Victor let his eyes move to the night sky, the few stars that were visible through the clouds twinkled coldly, uncaring as they watched him die. He struggled, finger nails gouging at his attackers hands, wrists and face until he felt weakness fill his limbs. Hot tears splashed his face and he blinked slowly, one hand fell from Ivanov's wrist to land limply at his side. Darkness encroached on his vision, steadily obliterating everything. Victor's thoughts became hazy, disjointed. Only one face continued to come back to him, a smile and a blush. Dark hair, dark eyes. _Yuri..._

Ivanov wailed as he felt Victor go limp beneath him, his eyes blurred with tears as his hands slowly loosened their hold from around his throat. Victor's lips were parted, his eyes half-open and glazed. “V-Victor...?” Ivanov reached out again but before his fingers could touch that still face an explosion to his left made him look up. Agony tore through his chest and he fell back, away from Victor, to land on the hard ground. He looked up at the stars as hot blood soaked his shirt.

Yuri dropped the gun, his entire body shuddering as he watched Ivanov fall. He staggered into the railings, his breath coming in fast pants as he tried to avoid causing any more pain in his ribs. He steadied himself before limping carefully to Victor's side, he dropped to his knees beside him and looked down into his pale face. Somewhere in the distance sirens screamed but Yuri could barely hear them over the roar of blood in his ears. “V-Victor...?” Yuri's voice cracked, his fingers brushed strands of hair from his lovers face as tenderly as possible. “Victor...It's ok...I'm here...H-he's g-gone...” Yuri smiled weakly, blinking away the searing heat of tears. “Y-You saved me...” He put a hand to Victor's cheek and tilted his head so that he could look at him, silver hair stained orange. Yuri stroked his cheek again, bending lower to press his cheek to Victor's chest. His rib screamed in protest but he ignored it. Yuri closed his eyes, frozen fingers shaking as he curled them into Victor's torn coat, he pressed his nose into the fabric of his shirt and breathed deeply. Around him cars screeched to a halt, lights flashed brightly behind his eyelids and voices shouted. He frowned, trying to ignore the frantic calls. Someone said his name but he couldn't find it in himself to react, he felt hands yanking at his shoulder but he shrugged them off. More hands grasped him and tried to pry him away but he cried out, desperately trying to return to Victor's side. It was where he belonged, where he was needed.

“Hey, Piggy! Listen to me; they're going to help him! Just move away so they can.”

Yuri struggled weakly in Yurio's arms, his eyes filling with tears as bitterness filled he back of his throat. “He's...h-he's n-not...b-b-breathing...” He gasped and felt Yurio's grip go slack. He swore in Russian and shuddered. “V-Victor...Victor...” Yuri fell to his knees again as the paramedics surrounded Victor. Yuri couldn't understand what they were saying, someone shouted to another and they brought a stretcher. Victor's limp body was rolled gently onto it, his arm slipped and something gold fell from his fingers. Yuri watched it as another paramedic moved to his side, speaking to him gently in Russian. Yuri shrugged her off and crawled slowly to the ring, his hands shook as he lifted it to the light. It was stained with blood, having rolled into Ivanov's vicinity. The man still lay there, one paramedic working on his wounds. Yuri curled his fingers around the ring tightly and when the woman came to him, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, he let her. He hung his head, ignoring the woman as she tried to get him to explain where it hurt or what had happened. Yurio tried translating, his voice cracking and worry distracting him as the ambulance with Victor sped off into the night.

He was helped up by the paramedics and into the back of another ambulance. Yurio climbed in with him, ignoring the mild protests when he told them he wasn't family. He sat at Yuri's side, their shoulder's brushing but neither of them said anything; too worried about Victor to do anything more than gaze despondently at the floor. His wounds ached dully as the ambulance drove away, lights flashing dazzlingly in the night.

Yakov was waiting at the hospital, his phone clutched nervously in one hand as he paced up and down in the waiting room. He froze when he heard commotion at the front desk, he looked up to see Phichit Chulanont and Christophe Giacommetti.

“Are they ok? You have to tell me! No...no we're not family...friends, yes. Good friends...”

Yakov walked to them and cleared his throat, the two skaters spun around and immediately crowded him. They bombarded him with questions, their English so heavily accented it gave him a headache. “I have heard as much as you!” He managed to say and they fell quiet, sharing worried glances with each other. “Victor and Yuri were both attacked by Ivanov and they're being rushed here as we speak. I haven't been given any details, Yuratchka wasn't very forthcoming with them. I will have words with him about running off on his own like that.” He glared at the receptionists desk before sighing heavily. It was then he noticed that both Chris and Phichit were wearing their tracksuits and medals still dangling around their necks. “Congratulations, Victor and Yuri will be very happy.” He said gruffly, nodding towards their chests. Chris didn't react but Phichit picked up his gold and looked at it as if he was ashamed.

“It should have been Yuri's.” He said and slipped it from around his neck. “Yakov...sir...will you give him this? From me. Tell him...tell him he deserves it more.” He pushed the medal into Yakov's hands. “They won't let us see them, but they'll let you see Victor at least. Please.”

Yakov weighed the heavy thing in his hand, remembering the first time Victor had won gold, the way his entire face had lit up. He smiled fondly at the memory before meeting Phichit's dark eyes, he nodded sharply. “Of course, Yuri is...good for Victor. He was such a lonely child...” He cleared his throat and frowned away the tears that threatened. “Thank you.” Phichit nodded uncertainly before allowing Chris to drag him away to the coffee machine.

Yuri was in a daze as he was wheeled into the hospital and set up in private room, he sat on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while doctors and nurses bustled around him. Yurio remained by his side, cursing anyone who dared tell him he couldn't be there, he wasn't allowed near Victor who had been rushed to another place the second he had arrived so he stood guard over Yuri for him. He didn't interfere and only translated for Yuri when he asked for it, otherwise they both remained silent, each too afraid to speak of what was in the forefront of their minds. Finally they were allowed their first visitor; Yakov. He stood uncertainly by Yuri's bedside and frowned at the coverlets before finally reaching into his pocket and holding something out. “Your friend is outside, waiting to see you.” He said gruffly, “He gave me this to give to you. Said it should have been yours.” He dropped a heavy gold medal into Yuri's palm. Yuri gaped at it for a moment, his brain taking far too long to catch up. Finally he shook his head too fast, causing it to spin.

“N-No...I can't take it! It's Phichit's! He won it!”

“Give it back to him then, I'm not a messenger.” Yakov growled in irritation, “Now, if you are feeling better I have other...places to be.” He turned and left, the door swinging shut behind him.

“He likes you, Piggy.” Yurio muttered, sitting in a nearby seat and gazing at the door. “He wouldn't have visited if he didn't.”

Yuri swallowed and looked down at his hand, the medal felt wrong against his skin. He let it fall to the bedside, eyes lowering as he twisted his fingers together. He had been bandaged and dosed with painkillers which numbed his physical pain but did nothing for his terror. He could have sworn Victor hadn't been breathing when he had been on the bridge, they hadn't heard a thing from anyone since and no matter how many times Yurio tried to demand answers he was told that no news was good news. Yuri couldn't help but doubt that. His throat ached from screaming, his body was battered and bruised, he had a bandage across his forehead and across his broken nose. He had a black eye and had cracked one of his teeth. He was very likely a mess but he couldn't dwell on it, his mind was plagued with images of Victor lying on the concrete, unresponsive to his calls. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around his waist and bending forward as far as he could. He closed his eyes, seeing Ivanov fall, seeing the blood...he had done it. He had killed someone. Bile rose to his throat, he couldn't stop it and somehow Yurio managed to get a metal bowl to his mouth just in time. He threw up what little was in his stomach, every retch made agony tear through his body and he groaned. When he was finished a nurse came in and handed him some water and some tissue while she whisked the bowl away as if nothing had happened. Yuri fell back onto the bed and curled up, eyes filling with tears.

The wait was awful. The clock ticked somewhere above the bed, the hands counting down the hours until someone would bring them news. Yuri and Yurio waited in silence, their eyes never straying from the walls. They waited and waited. It felt, to Yuri, as if the clock was ticking away Victor's life, minute by minute, second by second. It was awful. He wanted to get up and pace but he was in too much pain, so all he could do was lie still and stare blindly at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep, his mind still reeling from the events of the night. It was dawn now, the sun was likely up and Yuri wondered what he and Victor would be doing if he hadn't been stupid enough to run away. He imagined a little scenario of them waking up tangled in the sheets, of soft kisses and sleepy smiles before taking a shower together. He closed his eyes and let himself live that perfection for a while, before it was torn away from him forever.

Finally there was a soft knock on the door, a doctor in a white coat entered. He looked at Yuri and Yurio, face unreadable until a small smile curled the corners of his lined mouth. “He is conscious.” He said in accented English. Yurio leapt to his feet, eyes wide and filling with tears.

“Can we see him?” He asked, desperation obvious.

“Soon enough, we are just running some...routine checks. We need to make sure there has been no lasting damage. He will stay here for seventy two hours, strangulation can cause very...uh...serious...side effects. We must be careful.”

Yuri sat utterly still for a while, barely paying attention to Yurio and the doctor as they spoke. Victor was awake. Victor was alive. How was that possible? He hadn't felt a heartbeat or his chest moving...it was surreal. Slowly he lifted a hand to his eyes and realised he was crying, something seemed to break inside him, a damn with too much pressure. He started sobbing helpless to prevent it, a hand settled on his shoulder but he didn't look up as he buried his face in his hands and released all his pent up emotions.

When they were finally able to visit Yurio helped Yuri struggle out of bed. They walked slowly down the corridor to the room Victor was in, once outside Yurio stepped back. “You go first.” He said roughly, averting his eyes. Yuri could only nod, he raised a hand and pushed on the door which swung inwards to reveal a simple room with a single window. Yakov stood by the bed, his wrinkled hands curled around one of Victor's and his cheeks pink and damp. He looked up and smiled when he spotted Yuri, finally releasing Victor's hand so it fell back to the bed. Yuri nodded at Yakov who vacated the room quietly, leaving him alone. Yuri finally looked to the bed, his eyes meeting bright blue. His chest started to ache, his heart straining against his bruised ribs as if trying to escape. He stared, barely able to believe he was seeing Victor sat up and...smiling. He was beaming. Tears tracked their way down his face, his hair was in disarray and fell into glittering eyes the colour of a tropical sea. Yuri moved. His feet taking him the last few feet to get to his fiancé, ignoring his own wounds he threw himself into Victor's arms. They wrapped around him, tight enough to hurt but he didn't care. The tears came again, tears of relief, tears that ripped through every wall he had tried to erect. They held each other and cried into each other's shoulders. It took them both a while to calm themselves but when they had Yuri finally pulled away, only enough to look into Victor's eyes. “I thought you were dead.” He breathed, his body shuddering violently as memories of the past few hours shoved themselves to the forefront of his mind. “I...I thought you'd l-left me...”

Victor shook his head, hands going to Yuri's face and cupping it gently. “Never.” He whispered, his voice was cracked and broken, as if his throat had been filled with glass. He winced and swallowed, it was obviously very painful for him to speak. Yuri turned and grabbed a glass of water from the table, he handed it to Victor who took it in one shaking hand and sipped. “...Love...Yuri...” He managed to grate out, wincing again.

“Shh. Don't speak...It's...probably best you don't.” Yuri moved so that he was sat on the bed at Victor's side, their hands remained entwined and Yuri decided that nothing short of the apocalypse would make him let go. He had nearly lost Victor once, he had no intention of risking it again. “Do...do you know if...if he's...?” Yuri couldn't bring himself to say his name but from the way Victor's eyes darkened with anger he was sure he understood. Victor shook his head slowly. “Maybe...maybe we should ask...” He said vaguely, unsure if he really wanted to know. Victor shrugged, uncaring one way or the other. They were together again, that was all that mattered. He reached over, placing the glass back on the table before wrapping Yuri in his arms again. He lay back against the pillows, pulling Yuri with him until they were lying side-by-side. Yuri closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he tangled his fingers in Victor's hospital gown. He lay there, listening to the comforting thud of Victor's heart.

“Y-Yuri?” Victor's cracked voice was almost too quiet to hear but Yuri felt it vibrate through his chest.

“Shh, don't speak. Idiot.” He mumbled, nestling his head under Victor's chin with a content sigh.

“...Have to.” Victor croaked, “Yuri...Want to...get...married...”

Yuri tensed in Victor's arms, slowly lifting his head to give his boyfriend a wide-eyed stare. “What?”

“Marry me.” Victor grinned sheepishly, reaching up to push tangled hair from Yuri's flushed face. “When we get out of here. Marry me. Here...In Russia. We get family...to come...I pay.”

Yuri licked his lips, his eyes scanning Victor's face for any sign of a joke. When he found none he smiled softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Victor's chapped lips. “Yes.” He whispered and felt Victor's chest hitch. They settled back down again, Yuri's eyes closing as he felt truly safe for the first time in months. Here, wrapped in Victor's arms, he knew that they would never be parted again.

 


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Done. I will apologise for the dodgyness of the Russian wedding thing, I got my info from the web so if anything's wrong blame that, lol. Also, because there's like three different ceremonies I didn't go into too much detail as it would have taken a long time to write and it's a bit much for an epilogue. I honestly don't know how Russian's don't die at their weddings...two day long receptions? What the hell? They must have livers of steel. Lol. Again, I will remind you that I'm not good at fluff, I hope i've managed to pull it off ok though and it's not overly sappy. Also, I KNOW that IRL this would never happen but in the YOI universe homophobia doesn't exist so I decided that they'd also be allowed a proper wedding. I did try to avoid falling into the trap of heteronormaty (is that how you spell it? I'm tired) but I'm not sure it worked...so I'm so sorry if I have made that mistake, it is unintentional. I hope this is a good ending for my little fic, thank you all for remaining with me for so long. Honestly, I've never written a more popular story. You have my eternal gratitude. Enjoy friends.

After the inevitable court case, hours of reliving the worst moments of their lives. After they had been cleared of any doubt of murder and it had been ruled as self defence. After Ivanov was officially declared dead. After...after everything...They returned to Victor's apartment to recover.

And time passed, weeks turning into months until...

“You're really wearing that tie?”

“What's wrong with the tie?”

“I hate the tie. The tie is hideous.”

Yuri sighed, frowning a little as he met Victor's piercing gaze. “You really hate it that much?” He pouted, watching Victor's lips press into a thin line briefly.

“Can we burn it afterwards?” He asked, his voice taking on a lilting tone that almost made Yuri snort with amusement.

“No.”

They both stood facing each other, behind them was a building, the doors flung open to the street. Surrounding the doors were a mixture of their family and friends all beaming at them and waiting for them to mount the steps. Victor's fingers curled around the tie loosely, thumb stroking the silky material and a soft, nostalgic gleam in his eye. “Fine. But perhaps we can find other uses for it later, yes?” He gave his husband to be a cheeky wink before offering his arm. Yuri tried to hide his flush by lowering his head as he linked arms with Victor but he smirked to himself into his bouquet of flowers. It had taken six long months of planning, much to Yuri's surprise. Already they had been through a previous ceremony that had traditions Yuri had had to learn about before hand, Victor was luckily a very patient teacher. It was strange and ornate, absolutely beautiful and he was still in a daze about it all. He had somehow got through most of it using stilted, broken Russian with Victor at his side and correcting him where needed. Everyone was luckily very patient. Now they were reaching the final ceremony, where they would officially sign the documents that would make them legal husbands. Yuri could feel his knees trying weaken but he leaned on Victor and moved forward where Yakov, Lilia, Yurio and his own family were waiting with a loaf of bread. Yuri didn't want to ruin his pristine white suit with crumbs so he was careful when he and Victor bent to take a bite from the loaf, their eyes met and Yuri almost laughed and choked. When they both had mouthfuls and were chewing the crowd cheered, Yuri saw tears running down his mother's face as she clasped her hands to her chest. Yakov had one arm around Lilia's waist and was looking at Victor with open, unabashed pride. Yurio was (surprisingly) grinning broadly, being Victor's _Svideteli_ , or as Victor translated, witness. They finally entered the building, arm in arm as they hoped to spend the rest of their lives.

After they signed the papers they took a tour of St. Petersburg, Yuri was fascinated by the sights and they got to take photo's at all the historical places of importance. All the while he could hardly stop from grinning, his own words echoing inside his head; ' _I do_.' He stared out the car window, watching streets and people whiz past until they finally reached the site of the reception. It was being held at Yakov and Lilia's estate, the huge mansion awed Yuri's parents into silence, even his sister seemed unable to find anything to say. They crunched up the driveway to be greeted by the staff and taken to the usually unused banquet room. It had been decorated extravagantly, both Yuri and Victor both had overseen it. The colours matched their suits and ties perfectly. Everyone took their seats. Vodka was served and Yuri sighed internally as Victor's face broke into a broad grin, he gave Yuri a subtle wink and together they downed their shots to chants of 'Gorko' from the Russian's in the room. They turned to each other, Victor slipping one hand into Yuri's hair after he had shuddered at the cold, bitter taste of the alcohol. Their eyes met for one intense moment and they leaned in. When their lips met, Yuri's ears turned pink as cheers broke through the regular chant. When their tongues met Yuri let his eyes closed and all the world simply fell away.

It went on for two days. Two days of drinking, dancing, singing and games. Yuri had never experienced anything like it before. He was in a daze as colour, sound and excitement blurred into one long stream of excited confusion for him. He got so drunk it was difficult to remember certain parts, other times he seemed to be stone cold sober. He remembered once, when Victor had turned away from him to talk to Yakov, he had been accosted by Yurio and Chris and a few others. They lifted him, Chris threw him over his shoulder and ignored his confused cries as they ran off with him. Later, Victor found him in another room, laughing as he easily out-drank Yurio. When Victor arrived and sighed heavily, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as Yurio started demanding a ransom in a very loud, slurred voice. Victor paid, reluctantly. In retaliation Yuri's own friends, led by a devious Phichit, kidnapped Victor after finding out they could get some pay off for it.

And so, finally their wedding ended with a hangover to end all hangovers. On the third day Yuri woke up, wrapped in Victor's arms, warm and comfortable. He opened his eyes, squinting as daylight stabbed at his retinas through the curtains. He found himself smiling as he turned to look at the ring on his right hand as it glittered where it lay on the pillow. He snuggled back against Victor, hearing him mutter something unintelligible before settling his arm firmly around Yuri's bare waist and burying his nose in the back of his neck. Later that week they would set off back to Hatsetsu for a while to spend some proper time with Yuri's family but for now they had the day together. No one would disturb them. After everything that had happened Yuri was simply happy to be in his husbands arms. _Husband_. Now, wasn't that weird? He grinned to himself, curling his fingers with Victor's as he felt soft lips caress his bare shoulder from behind. He stretched out his legs, yawning as he rolled over to face his new husband. “Mornin'.” He muttered, Victor smiled weakly at him, he looked an absolute mess. He had circles under his eyes, his hair was everywhere, he had a shadow of a beard on his chin which Yuri thought was cute and sort of liked the way it scraped at his skin when they kissed. He shifted so that he could press a kiss to the corner of Victor's mouth and hummed. “Morning breath.” He groaned and Victor chuckled weakly.

“So, how does it feel to be Mr. Nikiforov?”

“I dunno, how does it feel being Mr. Katsuki?” Yuri replied, eyes sparkling as the sun rose higher behind him, bathing him in rose tinted light. Victor hummed, running his fingers slowly up Yuri's arm, watching him shiver in delight.

“Like winning gold every day of my life and beyond.” He whispered, meeting Yuri's eyes and returning his chaste kiss. “Like being born again.”

Yuri snorted but his cheeks warmed at the compliment, “I guess I kind of like being your husband too.” He admitted, smiling shyly.

They were too exhausted to do anything more than embrace, but it was warm and comfortable and they had the rest of their lives to do whatever they wanted. So, Yuri closed his eyes again and bruied his face in Victor's chest, revelling in the steady thud of his heart. Victor's hands were hot against the small of his back and he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. After all that they had been through together, the fear, the pain, the nightmares they both still suffered; this morning, this perfect morning was everything they ever wanted or needed. Together, they knew, they would overcome anything.

 


End file.
